


Us Against the World

by MyBlueBooks



Series: Jane and Sherlock Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Childbirth, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Harm to Children, Parentlock, Sex, Suicide, Teenage Parents, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 80
Words: 194,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBlueBooks/pseuds/MyBlueBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A baby is on the way, and Sherlock takes the responsibility, even when he's not the father. He just want to help his friend. Sherlock Holmes has friends? No, he hasn't. He's just got one. And her name is Jane Watson. AU Fem!John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Not an English speaker. Apologies for all my mistakes. This fic contains 80 chapters, so you know.

Looking up to the ceiling of the room, Sherlock feels their hearts beating together, sharing a same rhythm and tempo. Jane's thin, fragile body is glued to his and Sherlock accepts this because he knows this makes her feel safe.

Jane needs to feel safe.

Neither of them care what people think.

Jane is sleeping, her head on Sherlock's chest. And he's careful, he knows she can't lay on her left shoulder because that causes her pain, so that's the reason why he has his left arm embracing Jane's delicate frame while his right hand is taking her left. Their fingers are entwined. Sherlock looks down at their hands and to the stains left on his tee, stains which are the traces of her tears. Sherlock knows he could have prevented this. He  _should_  have prevented this. He knew Jane was going to get hurt. He did nothing, and now Jane's broken.

He feels awful because he knows he could have prevented her pain. She's broken now and Sherlock can't fix her, that's why tonight he ran the six streets that keep them away from each other in the middle of the rain after she had called him. She was crying and she told him she needed him, she asked for his company and for a hug. For the first time since they knew each other, Jane cried and asked for a hug. And Sherlock was there to reassure his friend everything was going to be OK.

It's so calm and peaceful now, the rain had stopped. Sherlock looks up to the stars shining on her ceiling, those same stars he helped her with, those stars his father bought for her before going away to Iraq. Sherlock then he looks down at her peaceful sleepy face and caress her hair. Sherlock wants to wake her up and talk. He wants to tell Jane he will always protect her, that he's going to be by her side and no matter what, they will always be friends.

Always.

Even in the same darkness of the place, Sherlock recognises Jane's blue nails, her short, perfectly cut and blue painted nails. Blue nail varnish that matches her eyes, the walls of her room and the duvet that covers their bodies. Sherlock takes a deep breath, taking Jane's scent in. He sighs inwardly and closes his grayish eyes. She smells like tea, floral shampoo and citric soap. But he looks down again, at their entwined fingers, and her blue nails take him to a nice journey to the past. A past in which they were nothing but strangers. A past in which Sherlock ignored her existence until one morning he saw those blue nails braiding her blonde hair. Her short and pale fingers and her small and short blue painted nails. That was the first thing he saw on her and now it's the last thing he looks at every night she runs to his place because she's afraid. But tonight he had to ran to hers because she was broken.

Sherlock Holmes has friends? No, he hasn't. He's got only one. And her name is Jane Watson.

* * *

His greyish eyes were scanning the grass of the school park and it was sunny enough to make him hate it. Around him teenagers were talking to each other, saying how good their holidays were and how bad was to be back at school. Girls were lying about how many boys they had kissed and boys were lying about how many girls they had shagged. Sherlock found it pointless and stupid to lie about things like kissing and shagging. Even being in the last seat at the back of the classroom he could hear them talking about things he knew he will be deleting from his hard drive in a few hours. Why couldn't they be quiet? Why they have to talk and talk? His gaze was still focused on the landscape outside so he didn't saw the girl who had walked towards his direction and sat in the empty spot in front of him.

The teacher arrived and soon he was talking about geography, the different cultures and the continents. Sherlock was still looking outside until his eyes caught two blonde hairs over his desk. His greyish eyes traveled a few inches up and he saw two pale and feminine hands and blue nails braiding that blonde hair and securing the hairdo with a blue band. The movements of her hands told him a lot of things about the girl with blue nails. She used her left hand quickly that her right,  _left-handed_. But the position of her shoulders suggested a trauma, or more likely a wounded shoulder, _left shoulder_. Observing further further and further he found more, like the blue pearl earrings and a matching ring. A present from a close relative, maybe a parent. Then her blue exercise book, her blue pencil case and her blue fountain pen, she was  _obsessed_  with the colour  _blue_.

But the hours passed, the teachers changed and after hours that lasted like five minutes to Sherlock, the bell rang and all the class ran outside ready to have their lunch at the cafeteria. He was usually the last leaving the classroom but this time, the blonde girl with the blue earrings and braided hair was still there, in the seat in front of him trying to write the last things the teacher had written on the blackboard and finally filling her brown leather bag with her books and her blue pencil case. She stood up in silence, not looking at the boy with greyish eyes and black curly hair sitting behind her and hung her bag over her right shoulder and left the place. The teenager caught two initials engraved on her leather bag.

_JW_.

Sherlock twisted his mouth when he found out his deductions were right, she was carrying her bag over her right shoulder, bad left shoulder then. But something new caught his eye. She had a light limp. It was a very light limp so he was sure he had been the only one who had noticed it.

He wasn't the kind of kid who had lunch at the cafeteria with the others and no one talked to him anyway. He was the one no one liked because of his weird eyes, his extreme intelligence and his frightening deductive skills. No one wanted to be humiliated by Sherlock Holmes when the boy was able to tell your whole life story only with a quick look over your shoes or your tie. So forgetting all about the blonde girl with the light limp, the wounded shoulder and the blue nails, Sherlock made his way to the school benches at the back of the building. It was always deserted and it was perfect to think. No one would disturb him and no one would tell him that he couldn't smoke, an habit no one knew about.

But when he reached his favourite place, someone else was there, drinking tea from a mug and reading a book on his bench. It was too late to turn around and go so Sherlock would never know why he kept walking and sat there, placing his bag over the round table and sitting in across her. The blonde girl with the leather bag was there, reading a book and drinking tea. And that was the first time Sherlock saw her face. She had a modest fringe covering her forehead and very pale skin, though her cheeks were furiously blushed, naturally and not by the use of make up. She had deep blue eyes, and pink and thin lips. She was beautiful. And natural. Maybe she was the only girl without tons of make up on her face. She raised her eyes from her book and looked at the tall and dark haired boy sitting across her but she remained silent and continued reading her book while Sherlock Holmes kept looking at her with his eyes, scanning her figure, her movements and the air around her. The leather bag was over the table and the engraving  _JW_  was still there, in front of him.

When the bell rang, the mysterious girl was the first leaving the deserted place, walking with her light limp and her bag over her right shoulder. And Sherlock knew she was the new puzzle he wanted to solve.

They met again in class. She occupied the empty place in front of him and again he felt hypnotized by her blonde hair and the blue band. That was the last class and it was the last time he was going to see her until the following day.

Her blue nails hit the desk when she found the class boring. Her left hand travelled to her neck and Sherlock saw how she pressed her fingers, trying to relax the muscles of her pale and fragile neck. She leaned her head to the left and then to the right, trying to found the concentration a maths lesson needed. And when the last bell rang she was there again, filling her bag with her books and then placing it over her right shoulder and leaving the deserted room alone and in silence.

Outside, his driver was waiting for him and Sherlock forgot all about the blonde girl obsessed with blue when he remembered the little experiments he was working on at home. Mummy and father were away travelling, Mycroft was at university and he had the house all for himself. He had important plans, like playing the violin until his fingers could bleed, trying a new experiment with dissected frogs and maybe a few ones with acids.

The way back to his house was the same. The same people, the same houses, the same shops. That little town was the same. Everything was the same as always until the car stopped at the traffic lights and there she was, the blonde girl with the bag over her right shoulder. As soon as the lights changed, she crossed the streets walking with a very bad limp. Her face showed how painful it was. Sherlock frowned, he saw her walking normally with a very light limp, but now she was in pain. The blonde girl had removed her school jacket and loosed her her blue tie. She was sweating and it was obvious her bag was heavy on her shoulder. The lights changed again and the driver passed her by. Sherlock had his face glued to the window of the car, looking at the blonde girl with the bad limp and  _blue_  nails.

The girl with the  _JW_  initials was a puzzle. And Sherlock Holmes wanted to solve her.


	2. UFO

Sherlock was walking through the school endless corridors when Molly Hooper saw him and followed him to his classroom. Poor blonde and graceless Molly. She was the only girl in the entire school who talked to him. Her crush on him was so obvious to the point she even asked him out for a date. And as kind and modest as Sherlock Holmes can get, he declined the offer kindly. The taller teenager managed to get rid of her when he arrived at his classroom. As soon as he glanced at his seat in the back of the class, he saw her. The girl with the  _blue_  nails and the blonde hair.

He walked to his seat casually and he noted an air of sickness and tiredness around her. She had bloodshot eyes and her cheeks were strangely pale that morning, not naturally pink as he noted the day before. Once he sat in his usual chair, he noted her blonde hair was neatly braided with a blue band again. She had removed the blue school jacket and Sherlock's eyes scanned her back. He could easily see a special bandage on her left shoulder. She was in pain. She also had her left elbow resting over the desk and she was writing with her right hand with difficulty. The young teenager noted the pain was extreme. If she was in pain, why she had gone to school? She could have stayed at home and have some rest. He had seen her the previous day walking with a very bad limp, but the signs of stress and sadness on her blue eyes suggested she had problems at home. More likely the mother. The father seemed to be absent or partially dead. She had one older sister judging by her school shirt that looked brand new, but it was two sizes bigger for her, why? An older sister had attended the same school but many years ago and for a short period of time. Her school skirt was longer than other girls'. Despite having what other boys called "a hot body" judging by her proportioned hips, her short but toned legs and her small waist, she looked ashamed of her own body, as if she needed to 'cover' herself.

And finally, the fact neither of their classmates talked to her nor even glanced at her suggested how lonely and shy she was. But the classes passed by and the morning finished with the bell ringing, boys and girls running outside to their homes to have lunch and do what teenagers do like watch movies, be on Twitter or Facebook and do little else.

As the day before, the blonde girl with blue eyes and matching nails filled her leather bag with a few books and left. She hugged more books with her hands and left the empty classroom. Sherlock waited for a few seconds to leave as well but he found her walking just a few meters away from him with a very bad limp again. The entire building was desert when somehow she stumbled and fell to the floor. Her books, the ones she was carrying on her arms, because they were heavy on her bag were everywhere, so her mobile phone. With a gasp full of pain, she tried to get up and pick up her things. She got all her books and when she tried to get her bag and her phone, her blue eyes met a pair of black and posh shoes. When she looked up, she met a tall and dark haired boy.

The blonde girl rubbed her blue eyes with her hands and tried to stand up by herself when she felt a cold hand taking hers and helping her. She had to raise her head to take a better look of the boy who was holding her hand, her bag and her phone as well. He had dark curly hair, pale skin and a pair of very strange greyish eyes. His lips were more strange and he was insanely tall!

"Thank you I-I'm sorry for this." Said the strange girl, shaking the dust off her knees with her pale and short hands.

Sherlock looked at her thin and delicate frame again, deducing she always had that bad limp, but she faked it during the mornings, during the lessons so she won't be bullied (more likely). She was also using a one shoulder bag because her left shoulder didn't let her use a better one.

"Don't apologise for something you didn't do on purpose." Replied Sherlock while she smiled just a bit, sighing tiredly. When she tried to take her bag from the boy's hand, he shook his head and with a gesture, they started walking together, side by side.

"You don't need to make your limp look light when it's bad, it will cause you more pain." Sherlock said while the blonde girl nodded at him with a furious scarlet shade on her face. The taller boy walked slowly, matching her movements, trying to keep with her walking to make her feel better after that awful and painful fall. But the blonde girl with blue nails couldn't say a word until both teenagers were in front of a very posh and impressive car. A man in dark suit and matching sunglasses was already opening one of the doors for Sherlock when she thanked him.

"Thank you... I'm Jane, Jane Watson." She offered Sherlock her right hand and he shook it delicately.

"Sherlock Holmes. Come along, Jane. I'll give you a lift." Sherlock said, glancing again at the engraving on her leather bag, JW, Jane Watson, of course.

But she tried to get her bag from the taller boy. "Um, thank you, Sherlock. But I can walk -"

Sherlock put her bag inside the car and then the books she had in her arms and gestured her to get in. "You definitely can't walk ten streets to your house with that bag and the books."

For the first time, Jane frowned and looked at him worriedly. "How do you know I live ten streets from here?"

And Sherlock smiled. Something inside him told him he liked that blonde girl with blue nails. "I saw you yesterday. Let's go, I'll take you home."

She had been told not to get inside stranger's cars. But this strange boy was mysterious. And she didn't mind the serious faced driver and got inside that car.

The car ride was silent until they'd stopped in front of her house. Instinctively, Sherlock helped her with the car's door and accompanied her to the front door, still carrying her heavy leather bag. When she opened the door she sighed relieved when she realised no one was at home and that was something Sherlock noticed.

"Would you like to come in and have lunch with me? Is the last thing I can do after you had helped me. But um... You must have things to do -"

She was so polite, so educated and her voice was so soft and small. For the first time Sherlock found another person around his age to his like. But something in her red eyes and in the sadness of her face made him nod and step inside Jane Watson's house. The place was nice and cosy. The wooden floor was covered with a fine and soft red carpet and the walls had a flowered wallpaper. The living room also had a nice sofa and a big telly. Jane climbed the stairs with pain but she managed to reach the second floor of the house without gasping or stopping to catch her breath. And he followed her carrying her bag. Upstairs, they walked the corridor until the blonde girl opened the door of her world. And Sherlock was the first person entering the place, although it was big, Jane liked to call it her little space.

Jane's room was big. Just in front of the door there was a window and a desk covered with pictures of a child Jane and a man that, judging by his bone structure and eyes, Sherlock was sure he was Jane's father. She also had several biology books and one or two novels and a laptop. Beside the desk was her single bed, which had a huge and very thick blue duvet. Then, her wardrobe which was small and not so large like the one you expect a fifteen year old girl would have, a mahogany dressing table with a mirror and a blackboard hung on the wall which had written several words and phrases Sherlock didn't know what they meant. But what caught his eye was the shadow of her room. Everything was blue, the walls, the curtains, the carpets, and even the pillow! The ceiling was white, but it had a few parts black painted.

"My dad was helping me to paint the ceiling and then we were going to glue some stars, you know, the ones that shine in the dark?," explained Jane while taking off her school jacket. "But he doesn't live here anymore, so it's unfinished. Sorry, I must be boring you. Here, let me help you with your things."

Sherlock didn't say a word. He was deeply lost in the blonde girl with blue eyes, matching nails and with also a matching room to notice Jane was taking off his bag and then his jacket. "Do you want to eat here or downstairs?" She asked and Sherlock shrugged, not really caring where they could eat.

"I don't eat." Replied the taller boy and Jane smiled.

"Well, let's go downstairs. I can't walk the stairs carrying food, sorry about that. Besides, you'll eat my food."

"And what makes you believe that?" Asked Sherlock while glancing at her books.

"Because I was told my spaghetti is the best."

While Jane cooked, they talked a lot. Sherlock found out she was indeed new in town and that her parents had divorced, forcing her to move with her mother and her sister there. Her father was a soldier and now he was in Iraq. Every question Sherlock asked, Jane replied with ease. It was obvious the girl didn't talk to people around her age and her mother and her sister were as absent as her father.

"You're sad. Your mother is dating another man you don't approve of and your sister is an alcoholic."

Sherlock was expecting a slap on her face, maybe a punch, but not what Jane said. "That was amazing!"

"You think so?"

"Yes! Absolutely amazing. You do that just looking at me, right?"

Sherlock nodded and explained to her what he had seen when he helped her at school. The mobile phone had a previous owner and it belonged to an alcoholic person. It was the first time someone had appreciated his deductive skills. And to his own surprise, it was a girl he had met just the day before. A girl with blonde hair, blue nails and a very bad limp. When most of the people would ran away, Jane was still there, amazed by him.

And Jane was right. Her spaghetti was so tasty, and he ate all of it!

"Why you pretend not to have a limp? Every time you do it it gets worst and it hurts you." Sherlock asked and Jane smiled a bit while she cleaned the table.

"I don't want the others to laugh at me. They used to laugh at me, in the other school. I was the girl with the limp and the scarred shoulder."

There was a moment of silence when Jane undid her braided blonde hair and her blue band fell to the floor. Sherlock understood why she didn't talk to anyone and why he found her sitting on his bench in the back of the school floor.

Jane was broken.

"I had a car accident two years ago, that's why I have this limp, a bad shoulder and a stupid therapist. I'm useless and no one wants to be near me. But thank you for helping me today."

That was the moment when Sherlock found himself unable to say a word. He was in that position you don't really know what to do nor what to say. He was there, sitting in front of Jane Watson, inside her house for the first time in the very same day they started talking. He went down to the floor to pick up her blue band and he handed it to her. Jane braided her hair again, doing it extremely delicately. She didn't cry the tears that were threatening her to roll down her cheeks and smiled to the tall boy with curly hair in front of her. For the first time he smiled back at her.

"It was nothing."

Upstairs, two teenagers were laughing and laughing while Sherlock explained Jane how he managed to embarrass two rugby players of the school team after saying, in front of everyone, they were still sleeping with their teddy bears.

"I'd better be going. I have some experiments I need to look at."

Jane nodded, now aware of those strange experiments after Sherlock told her about the dissected frogs and the chemicals involved. She was fascinated by that boy, who looked mysterious and dark, but still he was all the opposite. She could see his soul, and she knew he was a good boy.  
She handed him his jacket and feeling better, she managed to walk the stairs down and say bye to his new friend.

"Shall I pick you up tomorrow?" Sherlock asked while Jane opened the front door. Outside his driver was waiting for him to take him back to his home.

"No Sherlock. I'm fine."

He left in silence. Jane smiled and closed the door, resting her back over the wooden material and smiling with joy.

* * *

The following morning, Jane closed the door behind her with her bag on her right shoulder when she met Sherlock again. He was waiting for her outside his black car, with the door open for her. She walked the few meters that kept them away shyly with her walking stick, the very same one Sherlock glanced at the day before.

"I told you not to come." Jane said while Sherlock removed her bag from her shoulder and put it inside the car.

"And I told you I was coming. Let's go."

They arrived just in time when several teenagers of different classes were filling classrooms and running hurriedly from one place to another. They made their way to their usual classroom together, walking side by side. Sherlock's steps were slow, tying to keep up with Jane's. But the silence was something inevitable, because both couldn't really find something to talk about. Jane was naturally shy and Sherlock really wasn't a friendly person. In fact, Jane was the only person he could think of as a friend in that moment, and she was the first.

Geography, English, Science and Maths passes so quickly that none of them seemed to care at all. Jane looked as bored as Sherlock and being placed in the back of the class was something so good. She casually passed him a paper and both could talk about the other boys and girls around them, Sherlock deducing things for her and Jane adding her own comments. The dark haired boy wanted to laugh when he told Jane the the Maths' teacher was cheating on her husband, sleeping with something not human but plastic and Jane replied only drawing what Sherlock meant. Jane was funny, she didn't seem to be stupid, and she could easily keep up with him and his intelligence. The blonde girl was there, and in two days and after he told her about her mother's boyfriend and her sister's drinking problems she was still there. She hadn't ran away from him scared.

When the last bell rang, the whole class ran out from the classroom and there they were, Sherlock waiting for her to fill her leather bag with her books and then to braid her blonde hair and secure it with the blue band. "Shall we?" Jane asked as soon as she picked up her stick. Sherlock nodded and both teenagers were walking down the corridors when the famous Anderson and Sally Donovan from Year 12 saw them. The taller teenager with dark hair murmured something to Jane but she couldn't hear him when Anderson walked towards them.

"Ah... the  _freak_."

The rat faced boy and his girlfriend stepped in front of them and Jane looked at them blankly. She noted both seniors knew Sherlock but judging by the vocabulary involved, it wasn't a good relationship.

"Anderson... still cheating on your girlfriend with Sally?"

The other boy frowned and looked at Jane mockingly. "Got yourself a pet or is she your girlfriend, freak? But she has a limp. A bit  _useless_ , don't you think so, Sally?"

The other girl had dark curly hair. Her uniform was tight in comparison to the other girls and she was also wearing a grey and ugly coat. Sally, as the boy called her twisted her mouth as she glanced at Jane from head to toes. "Stay away from the freak, girl."

"I'm not his girlfriend. I'm his  _friend_." Jane said with a very serious tone. But Sherlock continued speaking.

"Scrubbing the floors again, Sally?"

Before Sally could do or say anything, Anderson interrupted her.

"Obviously she's not your girlfriend, who would like to kiss the freak? And vice-versa, who would like to hang out with a limping girl -"

From out of the blue, Sherlock punched Anderson on the face. The boy fell to the floor and Sally was already on her knees helping him and checking on his nose. Jane looked at Sherlock surprised, feeling inside a mixture of sadness and relief.

"Do  _not_  say that again. Understood?"

Sherlock Holmes started walking away from the older teenagers and Jane tried to follow him with her bad limp and her walking stick, when Sally yelled at her.

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes! He's not normal!"

Jane kept walking, defeated after her tears were already running down her cheeks. Sherlock was walking faster ahead and she felt that Anderson boy was right. Who would want to hang out with her? She had a terrible limp, she couldn't practice any sport, she couldn't even walk the stairs of her own house sometimes. She also had a horrible scar on her shoulder so she couldn't use any trendy nor fashionable shirts on summer and she had to lock her skin inside jumpers and school uniforms. She was a common girl, and she wasn't as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes was. Maybe thinking he could be her friend was a wrong and bad idea after all.

Because when Sherlock turned around, Jane was nowhere to be seen.


	3. Violet Hill

The following day it was raining and Sherlock ordered his driver to stop at Jane's house but she wasn't there. He waited for her until it was time to go. He wanted to knock the door and ask for her but he thought that maybe she was already on her way to school. He even glanced at her window and the blue curtains were closed. The entire house seemed to be deserted, so defeated by Jane's absence, Sherlock left and went to school.

When teenager Sherlock arrived at the classroom, he walked to his usual spot and noticed Jane wasn't there. Her seat was empty. The day was boring, and in lunch break he was sitting alone in his usual bench at the back of the building.

It happened the same for two days. It was raining and the weather was cold and wet too. For two days Jane hadn't gone to school and Sherlock had been having lunch alone, usually not eating but smoking non stop, thinking what could have happened to her in the meantime. He had seen enough to assume Jane was a brilliant student, always writing down notes and reading advanced books in her free times. So why she was absent? Being always a cold person, not talking to anyone but himself and now the blonde Jane, Sherlock never considered the idea of her feelings. What Anderson and Sally had said to her hurt her not only in the inside but in the outside. Her heart ached and her eyes were red with tears when she heard Anderson's words and even more when she saw Sherlock walking away from her.

It was a Friday afternoon. He left school after Chemistry when Sherlock walked to Jane's house. He looked again at his surroundings. The house was quiet. He knocked the front door but no one answered. He moved backwards to look at Jane's window, but the curtains were still closed. Without caring too much, Sherlock looked down some pots beside the door and he found a key. A very predictable thing, he thought.

When he opened the door, everything was dark and the only audible sound was the one produced by a clarinet. Sherlock went upstairs on tip toes, following the sad and dark notes produced by that blonde girl and her musical instrument. Her door was wide open and she was there, sitting on the middle of her bed, with her bare feet on the floor and her blue eyes closed. She didn't realise he was there until she stopped playing and she heard two hands clapping.

"What are you doing here?" Jane asked, with a mixture of surprise and concern. Jane was wearing a pair of grey trousers and a grey and old t-shirt.

"At least your pyjamas aren't blue as all you have in this room," Sherlock said while sitting next to her on her single bed. Jane smiled and looked around, like searching for anything to tell Sherlock she wasn't obsessed with the colour. But she was. "You didn't come to class."

"Were you worried?" Jane looked at him but Sherlock couldn't look at her. He kept his greyish and strange eyes on the floor and then to the ceiling of her room. The blonde girl with blue eyes smiled even more when two tears fell from her sad eyes. That was the moment when Sherlock looked at her, waiting for explanations. "Anderson and Sally... they were right. No one would like to hang out with someone like me. I'm useless -"

"You're not useless and they weren't right! They are two stupid that deserve what they have. Anderson has a girlfriend he met on the local church and cheats on her because she doesn't want to sleep with him so he uses Sally to fill his sexual needs. And Sally...- you're in pain." Sherlock realised.

Jane half smiled and half nodded sadly. "With this wet weather my limp gets worst and I can't even use my stick."

Silence filled the room and for a good moment they didn't say a word. Until Sherlock asked what he really wanted to know.

"You meant that?"

"What?"

"That you were my friend." Explained Sherlock with a very low tone of voice. Jane placed a hand over Sherlock's, giving him a reassuring smile. "Of course I meant it. You're a very nice and a very good person. I'm glad I've met you, you have been the only person who helped me or talked to me since I came here. I consider you my friend, it's OK if you don't feel the same."

After that afternoon it was impossible to conceive Sherlock Holmes, the tall boy with the greyish and alien eyes, the curly messy hair without Jane Watson, the blonde girl with the funny jumpers, the braided hair and the blue nails. Luckily for both, they had all the same classes together and after a while, they weren't sitting in the bench behind the school building but in the cafeteria, the two of them on a table alone, and sometimes with Molly Hooper, the girl of Year 10 who had a big crush on Sherlock. Jane would tease him and he would roll his eyes. Somehow, after the incident with Anderson no one else talked about them nor Jane's limp and her stick. The entire school would just ignore them and they would ignore the rest. That was how things worked for them. Even when they knew they were secretly called the "limping girl" and "the freak", but they didn't care.

Sherlock taught her how to ignore those comments and be herself, among how to deduce some facts about people. He also helped her with Chemistry, a subject she loved but she found far too complicated for her. Jane taught and helped Sherlock to understand romantic novels for Literature class. 

Every morning Sherlock ordered his driver to stop the car at Jane's house to pick her up and in the afternoons after class, he took her back home. Every day they had lunch at school, Jane cooked something new for his friend. And every weekend Sherlock needed an extra pair of hands on his experiments Jane went to his house, which was only six streets from hers, just to help him.

Jane was the first girl and the first friend Sherlock invited over one Saturday afternoon. The blonde girl with the walking stick was surprised when she arrived at the Holmes's house. Correction, mansion. It was a big place with three floors and endless corridors and uncountable rooms. Sherlock showed her his room, and it had the same things as hers, but with a biggest bed, a large bookcase and a big desk. Over it, there was a skull Jane didn't dare to ask about, but her friend assured her it was from a 'friend'. And over his bed, there was a violin. When Sherlock played a short but sweet tone for Jane, she sat in front of him and clapped her hands together, loudly, to make his friend understand with more than words how beautifully and lovely his music was.

That's how it worked. Sherlock would go to Jane's after school and she would go to Sherlock's during the weekends. And the Holmes's security guards already knew her when she walked to the door, hitting the posh pavement floor with her stick. And Jane's gossip neighbours would comment when Sherlock stepped inside her house when she was alone and when he left the place very late. Jane and Sherlock laughed loudly and do little else about that.

They passed all their exams with very good grades. Sherlock helped Jane with Chemistry and Science and she helped him with Literature.

And the entire school was over the moon with the prom parties. There were posters all around the corridors and it was inevitable not to hear girls talking how their dresses were going to be. The boys talked about which girls they were asking to go with them. 

"Sherlock, I was wondering if you- if you-  _wouldliketogotothepromwithme_." Molly Hopper asked, not breathing while she spoke. She had been invited, and obviously, she wanted Sherlock Holmes to go with her. The truth is that Sherlock didn't know how those things worked, but he was certain boys were the ones asking that question. And Molly's nervousness and clumsiness while she asked him was something he was so used to. Jane was right, the Hooper girl had a hard crush on him and no matter how many times he rejected her, she was always coming back behind him to ask him for a little date, suggesting she had a spare ticket for a movie or maybe to share lunch together.

Jane was standing next to Sherlock when Molly asked him. She frowned, trying to find out what Molly had asked Sherlock, but the taller teenager declined the offer.

"I'm going with Jane." He replied a bit coldly, but also calmly. That was something Jane taught him to do, so he wouldn't hurt poor sweet Molly. But the young girl looked at Jane, and smiled with a strong blush on her face.

"Oh, I see. Well... I'll see you there then, bye."

They continued walking to the school parking lot, where Sherlock's driver was waiting for them when Jane asked him what he was talking about and what Molly asked him.

"She asked me if I wanted to go to the prom with her. I told her I was going with you."

Jane smiled at him, but she felt sad too. She perfectly knew Sherlock said that to reject and decline Molly's offer and not hurt her feelings, something she once told him was 'a bit not good'. Sherlock wasn't going to the prom, he had told her that was something stupid and senseless. But Jane wanted to go. And she wanted the dark haired and clever boy to be her date that night. Will he say yes if I ask him? Jane thought about it for days and days since she knew about the party. Sherlock had proven her he didn't think like the others and that she was his only friend and that she wasn't as useless as she always thought of herself. Sherlock made all her days brighter and better since she had moved to that new town. He was his only friend after all.

Sherlock knew what she was thinking. He knew Jane wanted to go, that she wanted to wear a dress like the other girls. And that she wanted him to be her date. He wanted to be there only for her. He didn't see the purpose on wearing a nice suit or a tuxedo, dance with a girl and take lots of pictures for Facebook and prove the world they were grown up, when in fact, they were merely teenagers tying to act like adults in cocktail parties for one night.

But for Jane, he could do it.

Jane Watson was the girl with the blonde hair, blue eyes, matching nails, with a limp and a wounded shoulder product of a car accident. She had filled a special room inside Sherlock that was empty. His silent and lonely school days belonged to the past. She was now the girl he liked to hang out with, that could keep up with his intelligence and the only one Sherlock didn't consider stupid. She was his first and only friend in a world in which Sherlock was an alien boy. Strange for his physical attributes, his high and sharp cheekbones, his greyish eyes and is insanely height. Strange for his extremely cleverness and intelligence. But there was Jane, sitting next to him inside his car, looking outside the window. She had been with him, and she had accepted his sociopath personality. She knew he wasn't going to hug her, kiss her now put an arm around her shoulder like friends do. And she didn't expect him to comfort her with words or a reassuring hand over hers when she had red eyes after a night crying because she missed her father who was in Iraq.

Sherlock walked with her to her front door and tried to ask the question. "Jane, what I said before, I meant it."

The blonde girl smiled while she opened the door of her house. "You said a lot of things before, Sherlock. Or are you talking about that white stain in Miss Robert's skirt?" She asked playfully and laughed at the memory of Sherlock telling her the teacher had been having sex with the head of the school before classes.

"I'm going to the prom with you."


	4. Fix You

"I want to go to the prom with you."

Jane's knees went weak. She looked at her friend trying to find explanations, clues, something that could tell her if Sherlock was in fact joking. But Sherlock never made jokes, she knew it. The boy was serious! There weren't any signs of what he had said was untrue or false. Sherlock was being serious, he was inviting her!

"You said it was stupid -"

"I know what I said, Jane. I know you want to go and I can even deduce what kind of dress and what colour you'll wear."

She bit her bottom lip and smiled awkwardly. "Sherlock, you don't need to go. I wasn't going and -"

But Sherlock cut her off again. "Is this Friday, isn't it?"

Jane nodded and Sherlock turned around to made his own way back to his car. The driver opened the door for him, as always, and the teenager got inside and left. The blonde girl was still standing outside the front door of her house, smiling excited and happily, thinking she was going to the prom and she was going with her best friend, the clever and brilliant boy, Sherlock Holmes.

That happened one Monday, and the following day, Jane went to town ready to find a proper dress for the prom. She had her own savings, so she didn't need to ask her mother for money. Besides, she knew her mother didn't care about her, she probably ignored the fact her daughter didn't have friends because she only had one, and he was Sherlock Holmes.

After walking for a good amount of time, Jane gave up. All the shops had beautiful and lovely dresses. If she'd got one of those, she knew she was going to be the prettiest girl of the night. But there was something she didn't like about them. She needed to find the perfect dress, the perfect colour and the perfect shoes. She wanted Sherlock to feel proud of her, to feel happy for going to the prom with her, even when he didn't like it and when he found it pointless.

And after she stopped at a little coffee shop to get some rest and drink something warm, she found a little shop, just near the corner of a very busy street. As soon as she came in, her blue eyes found the perfect dress, with the perfect fabric and the perfect shade of colour she was looking for.

Jane knew it was perfect.

* * *

The week passed by as per usual. Sherlock continued picking up Jane to go to school very early in the mornings. They continued sharing papers with comments in the middle of lessons and they continued sharing lunch breaks together in their usual and favourite table, the nearest to the window because Jane liked to feel the warm sunlight over her porcelain skin. None of them mentioned a word about the prom thing. The only one who talking  about it was Molly when she sat with them at lunch to have a few words with Sherlock. The boy continued ignoring her and Jane continued kicking his legs when she knew what he was doing or saying was a bit not good.

They had seen and heard Anderson and Sally commenting on them, if they were going or not and how Sherlock was going to manage to dance with the girl with the walking stick. And when Jane was about to cry or say something, Sherlock put a hand over her right shoulder, her good one, and stopped the tears from falling and the words coming out her thin lips. Just a touch and Jane felt relieved and safe. That's what Sherlock Holmes did to her. He made her feel safe. That's why she loved him so much. Because there he was, always standing by her side, no matter what.

Sherlock learnt to braid her hair for her!

She always wondered why no one liked him or found him as fascinating and a good person as she did. Was the entire world wrong? Were they as stupid as Sherlock told her once? They didn't care what people thought. After all, it was all about them.

_Us against the world._

Jane wrote that line with a chalk over her blackboard hung on one of the blue walls of her room. Sherlock was sitting on her bed while she was drawing things over it. There were more words and phrases he didn't understand nor knew what they meant. And when he asked her, she shook her blonde head.

"I'll tell you someday."

And they continued talking, doing homework together, and doing little else, as always.

* * *

Mycroft looked at him from head to toes saw everything he needed to know. "I must certainly inform our parents Sherlock is attending to the prom party of his school. Oh, and he's going with a girl, you shall -"

"You're not meeting Jane, Mycroft."

The little Holmes replied coldly while he removed the tuxedo from his wardrobe, a present from his mother to be used on special occasions, such as family parties, Christmas and some parties hosted by them.

"Jane Watson. She lives with her mother, the father's Iraq, soldier. She's got a sister, older than her who lives in London. Drinker, a heavy drinker and lesbian. She has a wounded shoulder and a limp, product of a car accident two years ago." Mycroft said while looking at his new dark and posh umbrella.

"You have been following me again!"

"It isn't hard when you spend most of the afternoons at her house, brother dear. Tell me, shall we expect for a happy announcement at the end of the next week? After tonight maybe?"

Sherlock continued looking at Mycroft with angry eyes. "She's my  _friend_."

"Oh, does Sherlock Holmes has friends now? My my, look what I missed. Just a few months away and my dear little brother makes friends. I have to admit this was highly unexpected." Mycroft continued mocking his brother while he was dressing himself and buttoning his shirt for another school day. But Sherlock continued ignoring his older sibling and as soon as he was completely dressed, he took his bag and ran downstairs where his driver was ready to take him to Jane's house and then to school.

Mycroft was looking at his brother getting inside the family's car through the thick windows of Sherlock's room when he called his assistant. "Anthea dear, prepare the warehouse I talked about yesterday... it's time to meet miss Watson."

* * *

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I'm going to town to pick up my shoes for tonight."

Both teenagers were walking to the school parking lot when they saw Sherlock's car already waiting for them. He only nodded. "Need a lift?"

But Jane shook her head and smiled. "The shop is a few streets away from here, I can manage. See you at seven?"

Sherlock nodded and then both friends made their own separate ways. Thank God it was Friday, because it meant Jane didn't need to carry too many books inside her bag so she was able to manage the five streets she had to walk to get the shoes she had fixed for her. The same day she got the dress she also found the perfect shoes for the prom and for her feet. The main problem was her limp, but the woman who sold her the shoes suggested her an idea that could let her walk and who knows, maybe dance without her walking stick with those semi high heels.

Her savings and some money she borrowed from her mother were enough to pay for the special shoes. Jane thought she was dreaming. It was going to be the first time she wore a dress and that kind of shoes. And it was the first time she was going to a prom party. And also, it was the first time someone invited her. And that someone was special because it was her friend Sherlock Holmes.

"Miss Watson?"

A woman with brown hair and green eyes called her from a dark car. It looked like the one Sherlock owned, in fact, it was the same one! Jane recognised the number of it and even the little stain she had seen on one of the doors that morning very early.

"Yes..." replied Jane frowning at her.

The strange woman opened the door and got off the car and gestured her to get inside. "Get in, please. You'd like to come with me."

Jane looked at both sides of the streets. Despite the fact it was a busy street, it was deserted. "And why would I like to go with you?"

The brunette woman produced an smarthphone from inside her pocket. "Because someone needs to talk to you about Sherlock Holmes."

"What happened to Sherlock?" Jane asked worriedly.

But the woman shook her head and continued typing on her phone. "No, but you shall come with me."

She was told not to get inside strangers' cars. But she had ignored that comment the first time Sherlock talked to her. The brunette woman with the BlackBerry didn't seen to be dangerous... and curiosity kills the cat. Because Jane got inside that car, the very same one Sherlock used to go to school and then back to his house. The ride was silent and Jane felt uncomfortable.

"I'm Jane."

"I know."

"So, how's your name?"

"Anthea."

Jane frowned. "That's a fake name, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"There's any point asking where we going?"

"Not at all, Jane."

When Jane looked down at her mobile, it was turned off. She didn't have any battery left, so if something happened to her, she didn't dare to think about it, she was lost. Completely lost. But feeling Sherlock's scent on that familiar car made her feel secure. Maybe she wasn't going to meet with a killer nor a madman after all.

As soon as the car stopped, Jane realised she was inside an empty warehouse. The brunette woman with the fake name told her to get off. And ten steps away from her was a tall man in his middle twenties, wearing a dark suit and standing with a long and expensive umbrella.

"Miss Watson, pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat." The man said. He had a funny nose, pale skin and red hair. Jane was angry, she felt like he was joking and laughing at her as soon as she met those eyes. He gestured her to sit on the chair opposite him but she shook her head and stood there, with her walking stick next to her. She was also carrying her school bag and her shoes.

"I'm fine this way."

"Your leg must be hurting you." Mycroft said politely.

"I'm fine. Who are you?"

Mycroft Holmes smiled at her. She was brave. "You don't look afraid."

Jane smiled. "Because you don't look so frightening."

This time Mycroft laughed loudly, only increasing Jane's angry feelings. She felt so small in comparison to that man who was even taller than her friend. But something on his face reminded her of Sherlock.

"What's so funny?" Jane asked, angrily.

"What's your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

Jane cleared her throat. "He's my friend -"

"He picks you up every morning on his car. You sit in front of him in every class and you share lunch together, second table near the windows, usually in company of Molly Hooper of Year 10. Then he takes you back to your house and he usually stays until late in the afternoon. And you -"

"How do you know all of that?"

Mycroft cleared his throat before making his offer. This time was crucial because depending on the blonde girl with the blue eyes, the older Holmes was going to find out how faithful and how loyal Sherlock's friend was. And if she was worthy of his brother's confidence, time and friendship. "Miss Watson, I'm here to offer you a high sum of money. It will help you to pay the cost of that surgery many doctors had told you and your mother will improve and fix your... limp."

Jane raised an eyebrow, because not every day a strange man offers you money to fix and cure your limp. "Yeah? And in exchange of what?"

"Information about Sherlock Holmes. Nothing you may feel uncomfortable with, I just need to know what he's up to."

"Why?" She was amazed how easily he explained it. The only thing he wanted was comments, reviews and updated information about her friend!

"Because I worry about him.  _Constantly_."

"Who are you?"

"An interested party. But if you ask Sherlock he'll tell you I'm his arch enemy. He loves to be dramatic, you see."

The blonde girl wanted to laugh. That tall man with a funny nose was so right. Sherlock loved to be dramatic.

"I'm not interested." And that was the truth. She needed the money so badly to fix her limp and walk like a normal person. Her parents couldn't afford it and she accepted it. Her mother was already making a big effort paying that expensive school and Harry's university in London. But she wasn't going to accept it if it meant she had to betray Sherlock. He was her only friend. She couldn't do that to him.

"Trust issues, says here," The man with the umbrella produced a little notebook from inside his suit jacket and read, "The patient Jane Watson presents PTSD mostly caused by a car accident, the departure of her father to Iraq and her parents' divorce -"

"Where did you get that?"

Jane cut him off when she felt everything falling. She knew those were her therapist's medical report. And there was that man, reading them easily like if he was reading the news!

"Are you going to cooperate with me, Miss Watson?"

"No."

"You're very loyal, very quickly."

"Yes, I am because Sherlock's my friend and I'm not going to betray his confidence. Are you done?"

"You tell me." Replied Mycroft with a smile. Jane had to bit her lip because she wanted to punch that man on the face when little tears fell from her blue eyes.

But she walked back to the car and Anthea was already out waiting for her still typing on her phone.

"Time to chose your side, Miss Watson" She heard the mysterious man telling her, but Jane ignored him.

"I'll take you back home, Jane." Anthea told her, but Jane didn't say anything.

The entire ride back to her house was silent. Jane felt her chest ache every time she remembered that man and his umbrella. She wanted to go back in time and change the moment she decided to get inside that car. She cursed that moment and the moment that man with green eyes and a funny nose read her medical report and when he offered her enough money to fix her limp. But she knew she didn't need to feel sad. She should be happy, because she hadn't broken that bond and special friendship she had with Sherlock.

Jane cleaned her face. She needed to eat and then get ready because tonight, she's going to the prom with her best and only friend, Sherlock Holmes.


	5. X & Y

As soon as the driver stopped at Jane's house, Sherlock flipped the little box in his hands and walked slowly, with short and steady steps until he was in front of the Watson family's door. He could hear the telly, steps of someone who wasn't Jane. He walked backwards until he met his friend's window. The lights were on, but the blue curtains were closed.

Sherlock knocked the door once with his hard and bony knuckles and a woman, a bit taller than Jane, with a fake brown hair and dark eyes opened the door. She was wearing a grey jumper and a pair of jeans. With a quick glance the young boy discovered everything he needed to know about the woman. She was Jane's mother, middle forties. She wore clothes suitable for her age and she had a boyfriend who was in the force. Not a policeman, his position was higher, DI maybe. Then the white tan on her annular finger, divorced as he already knew and finally her straight hair was the same as Jane.

"Good night, you must be Jane's date. Come in sweetie!" The woman said before Sherlock could say anything and patted his back, inviting him to come inside the house "Nice to meet you, Sherman -"

" _Sherlock._ " Corrected the young boy.

"Ah, yes, Sherlock! I'm sorry, dear. I'm Suzanne. Jane must be ready by now, I'll get her. You sit here and wait; do you want something to drink?" Teenager Sherlock wasn't amazed at Jane's mother. The woman seemed to be excited and it was expected. Sherlock knew she didn't have a close relationship with her daughter, but certainly she cared for her.

He shook his head "I'm fine."

Suzanne left him alone and ran upstairs to get Jane. Sherlock continued flipping the little box he was carrying with him and glancing at the frames on the wall when he heard a pair of high heels hitting the wooden floor of the living room and then Jane's soft and shy voice.

"Hello, Sherlock."

Jane looked beautiful. Her dress, as Sherlock secretly predicted, was blue. It was long, with a not-so-tight corset. It also had lacy blue sleeves long till her elbows embroidered with little and fine blue beads. Sherlock could tell by some details he had seen Jane sew those to the sleeves by herself in attempt to make it look expensive and classier. He knew she wasn't able to afford that kind of dress, but those beads also told Sherlock were purposely embroidered to cover Jane's scarred shoulder since the dress had lacy sleeves. Her blonde hair was braided as always but this time it looked different. It was parted to one side and the braided hair was resting over her left shoulder, another attempt to cover her scarred shoulder. Jane was also wearing those blue pearl earrings and the matching ring on her left hand Sherlock had seen the first day he saw her.

  
She looked beautiful and natural with only a shade of pink lipstick on her lips and rimmed eyelashes.

"You look amazing, Sherlock," Jane admitted as she walked towards him and gave him a little and very shy peck on his cheek, on tip toes to reach her friend's height. He was wearing a dark suit with narrow leg trousers, a tailored jacket, a white shirt and a dark tie. He looked so handsome. It was the first time she saw him wearing those kinds of clothes.

She reached his tie and adjusted it with her thin fingers "All the girls will hate me."

Sherlock frowned and looked down and her fingers, working on his tie with her blue nails. "All the girls are stupid."

Jane's mother left them alone to get her camera despite her daughter's complaints.

"You look beautiful, Jane." He almost whispered.

Jane blushed "Thank you, Sherlock."

"I got you this," Said Sherlock while he opened the little box he had on his hands "According to my research men usually buy this to their female partners for this kind of... occasions. It wasn't hard to pick the colour since I always knew which one you were going to wear."

Jane patted his shoulder and smiled "It's very lovely, Sherlock."

The dark haired boy placed the deep blue orchid flower prom corsage on her wrist and secured it doing a small bow with the ribbons of the corsage. As soon as he finished, Suzanne was ready with her camera.

"Aw, you look so lovely. You never told he was your boyfriend -"

Jane exploded and cut her mother off "Mum! He's my friend!" She turned to Sherlock and apologized "I'm sorry Sherlock."

"Well, let's take you a photo or you'll be late for the dance!" sang Jane's mother as she looked at them expectantly.

The blonde girl rolled her blue eyes and nodded. But both teenagers were standing next to each other, looking at the camera blankly expecting for Suzanne to take the picture.

"C'mon Sherman, put your arm around Jane -"

"It's  _Sherlock_ , mum! God, stop it will you?" hissed Jane angrily, obviously embarrassed by her mother when Sherlock did as he was asked.

And Suzanne took the picture "I'll print a copy for you, Sherman-  _Sherlock_! What an odd name, isn't it?"

"Bye mum." Replied Jane angrily as she took Sherlock's hand and opened the front door ready to leave.

"Take  _care_  of her, Sherlock!"

As soon as both were inside the car, Jane sighed and closed her eyes relieved. And then she glanced at his friend and both laughed together.

"Did she say what I think she said?" Sherlock asked as he ordered the driver to take them to the school gym, where the prom party was being held.

Jane nodded and also smiling and giggling "She watches too many movies," She looked at Sherlock and smiled even more "I'm sorry for the photograph, Sherlock. I called to my dad yesterday and I promised him I was going to send him a picture."

"Does he know his beloved daughter is friends with a highly functioning sociopath who likes to run experiments involving acids and keeps a human skull besides his bed?" Sherlock asked. Jane nodded.

"Oh yes, I also told him he stays at home with me when mum's not home and we fake moans just to piss off my stupid neighbours," Jane added jokingly.

Both teenagers laughed hard again until Jane remembered the episode she lived with the tall man and the funny nose in that deserted warehouse. Her soft but sweet giggles stopped and Sherlock felt the change of mood there.

"You're worried," Sherlock deduced while Jane asked herself inwardly is she should tell Sherlock about that man and what he asked her. Maybe she shouldn't, but maybe his friend was in danger.

Jane decided to tell Sherlock the truth. "When I was going back home a woman in this same car approached me. She said there was someone who wanted to talk to me about you. I agreed, and she took me to a warehouse. A man was waiting for me, and he asked me to cooperate -"

Sherlock, who had his hands glued together under his chin frowned and looked at her "Did he ask you for information about me?"

"Yes."

"In exchange of money?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"Of course not."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time."

Jane looked at him worriedly "Who was it? He said he was your arch enemy."

Sherlock shook his head "Is the most dangerous man you'd ever met, not my problem right now."

After a long silence, Jane continued with the rest of the story "He knew everything about me. He even had my medical reports, the same ones my psychiatrist wrote about me... he offered me enough money so I could pay the surgery I need to fix my limp," The last words were almost a whisper and Sherlock felt angry. Jane was fragile and without looking at her, he knew she was about to cry. He could never forgive his brother after that. Mycroft offered Jane the opportunity to fix her limp and be like any other girl and even practice sports in exchange of his own trust and confidence, but she refused.

"I rejected the offer, of course. I won't sell your friendship, Sherlock." Jane said with a smile. Somehow the girl managed to fight those tears that were threatening to fall down.

Again Sherlock was in that position he never knew what to say, which were the proper words to tell Jane  _thank you_ , that he appreciated her friendship and that she was his only friend. But the silence filled the space between them and Jane accepted his lack of words and sentiment. He knew how he was, and she accepted him.

* * *

When the car stopped at the place where the prom party was being held, Jane looked insecure. Sherlock felt that as soon as he helped her to get off the car and they met a few classmates outside the building. They looked at them with alien eyes. Sherlock made Jane take his arm and both walked to the building together.

"Dance with Molly." Ordered Jane.

"Not good if I don't?"

"A bit not good, yes." Jane smiled when Sherlock stopped walking.

"You're not limping."

Jane smiled "Surprise, Sherlock! Got these shoes. The woman who sold them fixed them so one is higher than the other, so my hips are aligned." Jane explained while she took Sherlock's arm, getting themselves ready to come inside.


	6. Parachutes

Sherlock Holmes felt Jane happy. Despite she was also nervous and insecure about it, since the whole school acted like if they were aliens and strangers, she really wanted to be there and prove all of them she was just like them, maybe different because of her shyness and her limp.

Jane held Sherlock's arm tightly soon after they came inside. The place was big, and Sherlock knew all the students were there. The music was loud, and girls and boys were dancing in the middle of the gym, which had been prepared for the party. There was also a large table with some food and drinks free of alcohol of course. And then globes of every colour hanging on the walls and the roof. Even the famous mirror ball was hanging up above the dance floor!

"Hello Sherlock!"

Molly Hopper appeared from out of the blue and greeted both Jane and Sherlock with a kiss on their cheeks. She was wearing a dark dress, low in the front and short above her knees and she had a high hairdo with a silver bow (she looked like a badly wrapped present) and his lips were ridiculously painted with red lipstick. Jane glanced down at her feet, the poor Molly was wearing shoes too high for her, making her walk clumsily.

With a look, both friends Jane and Sherlock agreed the poor Molly wanted to impress Sherlock and/or any other boy.

"Hello," Sherlock replied coldly.

"Hello Molls, you look good!" Cheered Jane taking her hands which made the blonde and clumsy girl of Year 10 glance at the corsage Jane had.

Molly looked at Sherlock and then at the blonde girl with blue eyes and some how, her suspicions about them were confirmed. They weren't friends. They weren't just classmates nor two teenagers that casually lives six streets away and shared lunch together because none of them had enough friends, no.

Jane and Sherlock were together.

"You look nice... you two look nice together," Molly whispered, successfully fighting her tears. It has been years and years of waking up every morning and going to school only to take a quick look at Sherlock Holmes, the tall boy with dark curly hair and greyish and alien eyes. And there he was, with the new girl and she had her arm hooked with his. She felt like she missed that place. Maybe she could have been more talkative, more friendly and she could have conquer Sherlock Holmes' heart. But Jane was there. 

Jane won Sherlock Holmes' heart.

But Jane Watson didn't realise what Molly Hooper meant.

"Thanks! I can't believe he agreed to come -"

"Jane, I've found a table here, shall we go?"

Sherlock dragged Jane away from Molly "Did I say something wrong?"

"She's in distress. Watching us arriving, leaving school and having lunch together made her mind think about one and only possible concept. Now arriving together at the prom party, and a glance to the corsage I gave you, her poor and naive mind made the rest. Molly thinks we are together involved in a relationship. How do you call it?" 

Jane smiled "Boyfriends? Come on Sherlock, you should know that word!"  Jane smiled and then she saw Anderson and Sally arriving at the party together.

"Look, there's Anderson and Sally." Jane pointed out. Sherlock ignored them, as he always did and they just sat there, watching the other boys and girls dancing, kissing each other and doing a lot of things both cataloged as stupid things to do.

Several girls of their same class greeted Jane, and told her how good she looked. Some girls had no doubt to point out and ask how she managed to fix her limp and where she did get the shoes. Sherlock rolled his eyes at them, and every time a new girl got closer to ask, or just say hello to Jane the implication was there: Sherlock was aware of his look, the cologne he had stolen from Mycroft's drawers and the light product on his hair made him look older, and specially attractive to the girls. Jane had warned him when they were in his car. So every girl who ignored Jane or talked behind her back was there, smiling at her, asking her where did she get the dress and who made her make up.

"Do you realise they talk to you only because you're with me?" Sherlock asked and Jane nodded, obviously she understood what his friend meant. All the girls who used to ignore her were there, smiling and talking to her.

"Oh, I thought I was making new friends. I know, Sherlock. But they even ignored you and now they are willing to give you more than a kiss tonight," Jane replied.

"I don't like them."

"Well, that's good then."

"What do you mean?"

Jane cleared her throat "I know you since... since a long time, Sherlock. And if you make such a fuss any time someone does something stupid, I can't imagine what you would do if you had a girlfriend," And then she drank more of her drink and continued "A normal girlfriend would drive you crazy."

The funny and trendy songs finished when the slow songs started to fill the dance floor. Several teenager couples filled the space and soon Jane and Sherlock were the only ones sitting there, alone.

"Why do they dance?"

"Because it's why these kind of parties exist, I guess. Go and dance with Molly."

The dark haired boy shook his head "No."

"You promised, Sherlock."

"I haven't danced with you."

Jane smiled and waved her hand, the one with the blue corsage and pointed at Molly.

"Go and make her happy. She deserves it, you know."

"Why? She didn't make anything for me." Sherlock said.

"She doesn't need to do something for you. Just go and do it."

Sherlock stood up but took Jane's arm and walked until they were in the dance floor, inches away from the other couples dancing.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing. Isn't this what you wanted me to do?"

"But not with me, go and dance with Molly!"

"You can't dance, can you?"

"No, thanks for pointing that out, clever boy."

"Follow me," Sherlock instructed as Jane tried to keep up with the boy's steps and movements. But the song none of them knew stopped and one of Jane's favourites filled the space.

"This is my favourite song."

"You have to put your arms here," Sherlock took Jane's hand and out them on the curve of his neck and then he let his hands rest on her waist.

_Oh morning come bursting, the clouds. Amen._   
_Lift off this blindfold let me see again_   
_And bring back the water, let your ships roll in_   
_In my heart she left a hole_

"Never knew the clever Sherlock Holmes knew how to dance," Jane joked.

_The tightrope that I'm walking just sways and ties_   
_The devil as he's talking with those angel's eyes_   
_And I just want to be there when the lightning strikes_   
_And the saints go marching in_

"Mother made me take classes."

_Through chaos as it swirls_   
_It's us against the world_

_Like a river to a raindrop I lost a friend_   
_My drunken hazard Daniel in a lion's Den_   
_And tonight I know it all has to begin again_   
_So whatever you do, don't let go_

_And if we could float away_   
_Fly up to the surface and just start again_   
_And lift off before trouble, just erodes in the rain_   
_Just erodes in the rain, just erodes and see roses in the rain._

They were in silence, dancing. Everything seemed to be so odd, Jane had never been that close to Sherlock, physically speaking of course. She had never felt those long hands on her waist and he had never felt her fragile and warm hands on his neck. The blonde girl wasn't limping, and her wounded shoulder wasn't hurting her. The dark haired boy wasn't deducing facts, his mind was in peace.

Both teenagers were in peace.

Why they had to be aliens? Strangers in the world who was supposedly made for them? Why they had to fight tears and bad moments every day? Why couldn't they be like they were? Why Sherlock had to caress Jane hand when she was about to cry and why Jane had to give the boy a look when he wanted to explode all his knowledge and beat all those losers at school?

Why they had to be mistaken as a couple? They loved each other in a level that was superior to the love two lovers can have. They were friends. Why was so hard to understand that when the only thing they did was laugh, share interest, play music together, drink tea and watch crap telly? Why the neighbours had to talk nasty things about them? Why they had to believe Jane was an easy girl who opened her door to the rich boy who lived six street away in that mansion with guards?

_Through chaos as it swirls_

_It's just us against the world_   
_Through chaos as it swirls_   
_It's us against the world._

Jane rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder all the time during the song, and her legs followed his friend's steps. They forgot where they were, what they were doing and who was next to them until a comment broke the moment.

"A woman was found dead here in the backyard!" A boy screamed and pointed at the back door of the place. All the girls and boys ran to see the scene.

Several police cars were outside and police tapes were securing the scene among police officers.

  
The only thing everyone could see was a pair of pink shoes. The entire body was covered with a black sheet and some lamps had been planted in order to find clues and marks.

"Stay away boys! The school has been informed and they are calling your parents to pick you up!"

A man with silver hair and tanned skin said as he waved his hands further and further, making several teenagers go back to the building where the party was being held. A chorus of bad words and disapproving sounds could be heard, until the only ones there were Jane and Sherlock.

"Jane, nice to see you. I already called Suzanne, she must be on her way here -"

"Why did you do that? You're not my father!"

Sherlock's first deductions about Suzanne's relationship with someone in the force were confirmed. That DI who was supervising the forensics team was indeed Jane's mother's boyfriend. The man his friend disliked so much despite he seemed to care for her, genuinely.

"Sherlock Holmes. You should be the Detective Inspector in charge. Do you know that if you cover the body with that dark sheet and keep those lights close to the body you can loose all the evidence or digital traces on the body?"

Several men and women in the forensic team who were working there turned around and faced the boy. The older man looked at Jane and then at Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes? I'm DI Greg Lestrade. How do you know that?"

"Textbook. Did you find the suitcase?"

Lestrade frowned "What suitcase?"

"She had a suitcase."

"And how do you know she had a suitcase?"

Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes and explained, also pointing at the floor and the woman's visible legs "Look at the cement floor. There are marks of a suitcase. A small suitcase. Also look at her legs, small marks of mud. She comes from some city."

The older man nodded. The boy knew what he was talking about and something on Jane's approving face made him believe in that Holmes boy. "What else can you see?"

"I'll have to look at the body if you want me to tell you what I see, DI."

The DI nodded "Richards, take them out of the scene for a moment, can you?"

As soon as all the forensic team was out of scene, Greg removed the dark sheet from the body and Sherlock ignored the police tape, crossing it and asked for a pair of gloves.

"I asked you to take a look, not to touch the body." Greg said, but Sherlock insisted on the gloves, until Jane grabbed some and handed them to her friend.

Sherlock touched her pink coat and the collar. Then he looked at her left hand and her pink nails. He smiled when he removed the ring from her ring finger and then when he read the last words the poor blonde woman in pink clothes wrote before she died.

"And, what you've got?"

"Not much." Sherlock replied and cut the tape to let Jane into the small crime scene. Greg stopped her and then glanced at the boy.

"She stays out."

But Sherlock shook his head "I need a medical opinion."

Jane looked confused to say the least. Sherlock looked so defiant in front of Greg.

"I have a team outside!"

"Yes, but they won't work with a sixteen year old." Sherlock said and then turned to Jane "How do you think she died?"

Jane was on her knees, trying not to ruin the dress and also trying to not contaminate the scene. "I'm not a doctor, Sherlock.,"

"But you have top marks in Biology and you read medical books. You can do this."

The blonde girl could feel her mother's boyfriend's eyes on her as Sherlock's. She nodded and started to look at the dead woman. There weren't any traces of alcohol, the woman wore a strong perfume but she couldn't feel any other familiar scent.

"I can smell any alcohol, there isn't any vomit so she probably had a stroke, I'm not sure."

"She certainly had a good job. She also came from London and planned to stay a few days to visit a lover maybe -"

Both teenagers turned to face the DI when they heard him laughing.

"How do you know that? If you're making this out -"

"Look at her nails! Manicured nails, expensive clothing and jewellery. Then her ring, it's old but it shines inside which means she removes it regularly and not to polish it. She has a lover, at least one."

While Sherlock explained his point, Lestrade realised he was right.

"And how do you know she was going to stay for a few days?"

"Her suitcase."

Greg nodded "Yes, but -"

"The marks of mud cover only her leg until her knee. She was carrying a small suitcase. Small suitcase means a few days, no more than two I'd say."

"She's from London?"

"Of course."

"How -"

"I went to London yesterday, it was raining."

"Why London and -"

"She's from the media, look at the alarming shade of pink. I don't want to see it, but I'm sure her underwear is also pink."

"That was brilliant, Sherlock!"

Greg nodded in agreement. The boy had discovered a lot of things just looking and his whole forensic team had been working for an hour and they couldn't find anything.

"You're doing it loud, Jane!" Sherlock said while he looked at the dark backyard of the school.

Greg's attention was now on his phone. Suzanne couldn't make her car work so she asked him to take Jane back to their house.

"You mum can't come, I'll ask one of the officers to give you a lift."

Jane shook her head "I'll walk. I want to walk."

"But -"

"You're not my father. I'll walk. Let's go, Sherlock -"

Sherlock Holmes was nowhere to be seen. Greg and Jane looked for him but he had vanished.

"If it helps, I'll tell my mum to send you a text as soon as I arrive home," Jane said coldly and started walking alone.

It was a dark night, and it was cold, but she wanted to walk. She was walking like any other normal girl and she had enjoyed the prom like anyone else. Jane felt free, normal. She felt included in the world she used to believe wasn't made for her.

She know had a friend, the best one of the world and that was all it mattered.

"He left you alone." Jane turned to see Sally, who was lying against a wall, smoking. "Sherlock Holmes is a freak. He likes these things... gore and blood. You should stay away from him."

"You don't know him."

"Maybe... but someday we will be standing in front of a death body. And he will be the murderer."

Jane Watson ignored her words and continued walking and walking, glancing now and then at the blue corsage on her left wrist and thinking about her only friend, Sherlock Holmes.


	7. Clocks

Sherlock ran as fast as he could and as fast as the suit he was wearing allowed him to do so. He knew he had to follow his instincts and more likely, his knowledge. The woman wearing pink had a suitcase, a small one, he knew it for sure. Now his main concern was finding the mentioned small, pink suitcase and prove DI Greg Lestrade he wasn't inventing things, that he knew them.

Jane. He forgot Jane, but he knew she would understand. Sherlock made a mental note to ask her about Greg. Not like he was going to stand up for the DI, but he seemed to care for her, genuinely. And recalling Jane's past comments about the man, Sherlock realised Jane always thought and supposed Greg wanted to replace her father. And it hurt her. It hurt her and her heart because everyone was taking for granted her father was dead in Iraq and he wasn't. Jane knew he wasn't and despite sometimes skyping with her father wasn't the best, she knew he was alive and he was coming back to England alive.

"Did Greg take you here? How was the prom? Did Sherman kissed you? Is he your boyfriend now?"

Jane rolled her blue eyes and closed the front door with more strength than necessary. "Mum, for the last time, his name is Sherlock! S-h-e-r-l-o-c-k, got it? He didn't kiss me, and he's not my boyfriend, stop it, will you? And I walked," Jane started to undone her braided hair and walked the stairs, one by one, still hearing her mother's comments, but she ignored them.

She opened the door of her room and secured it with her key. God knows how she felt. Jane was happy, yes. But she felt like something was missing. The night had been perfect, Sherlock had been an amazing friend, she wasn't expecting less. The girls at school talked to her, even when it only was to be closer to the charming and good looking boy who was her date, Sherlock, she felt somehow... fit. But Sally's comment ruined it all. Of course someone had to ruin it all.

Jane didn't bother in turning on the lights. She just sat in the middle of her bed and started removing her blue dress delicately and then her shoes when she saw a pale hand moving close to her and then turning on her beside lamp.

"What the hell are you-  _mmhhh_!"

The blonde girl tried to shout but a cold and long hand covered her mouth, preventing her from screaming. Sherlock Holmes was sitting in front of her and in the floor was a pink suitcase.

"Hush!"

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Sherlock continued looking at the pink suitcase with both hands glued together under his chin, the famous 'thinking position'.

Jane completely forgot her state and grabbed the dress to cover her almost nakedness from his friend.

"You should tell your mother to remove that ladder from her open window. Now, what's missing?" Sherlock pointed at the opened suitcase with both index fingers while Jane dressed with a pair of dark jeans and another one of her famous and baggy jumpers.

"From the suitcase, how would I know? And where did you find it?" Jane asked with a deep frown.

Sherlock smiled. "I looked on every rubbish container within half a mile from where the pink lady was. The murderer was so stupid..."

"And you're so clever." Jane said while she tied the laces of her converse trainers.

"Something is missing."

"Yeah, you said that already."

"Her mobile phone."

"Her phone? How do you know?"

Sherlock twisted his mouth. "She comes from London, she works in the media and I know she was visiting one of her lovers, she must have a phone."

Jane nodded. "She must have left it at home." She suggested with a small smile, but her friend shook his head.

"With a more than a lover do you think she would have left her phone at home? I don't think so. Hungry?"

* * *

"I've never been here," Admitted Jane as soon as they walked inside a very modest but cosy Italian restaurant in town. They sat in the table in front of the window when a man approached them.

"Oh Sherlock, it's so nice to see you again! And with a date, bellissimo! Anything you want it's on me, you know the deal." Said a man in his middle fifties, who hugged Sherlock like if he was a close relative or something like that.

"I'm not his date, sir." Tried to said Jane, but the Italian man seemed to be deaf.

"He's Angelo. Last year I proved the previous DI that he wasn't a murderer and that he was in another part of town, in a house breaking."

Angelo nodded and patted Sherlock's shoulder. "This boy saved me from a murder charge! I could have gone to prison!"

Sherlock nodded. "You indeed went to prison."

"I'll bring a candle, more romantic."

"I'm not his date!" 

The silence became more and more uncomfortable when Angelo returned with spaghetti and a candle for the table.

"People don't have arch-enemies in their real lives, Sherlock."

The boy, who was looking to the window behind Jane, looked at her confused. "If they don't, what do they have in their real lives?"

Jane shrugged. "People they like, people they don't like, girlfriends, boyfriends -"

"As I always say, that sounds dull."

"Have you ever had a girlfriend... or boyfriend, whatever shakes your boat, Sherlock?" Jane asked. Her voice betrayed the confidence she thought she had when she stated asking the question and then the last word became a mere whisper.

"Girlfriends are certainly not my area," Replied Sherlock coldly, but staring at his friend's blue eyes.

Jane just nodded "Well, OK. That's good then. But if you need to talk to someone... or if just want to -"

"Jane, I think you should know I consider myself asexual and I'm flattered by your interest but I'm not looking for any -"

"No Sherlock! I mean, it's all fine. Whatever shakes your boat, it's fine.  _It's all fine_." 

They practically knew each other like if they had been together for a lifetime, when it had been merely months. But they had never talked about neither love interests nor boys or girls. It was such an awkward thing to talk about, Jane felt an alien in Sherlock Holmes' life like the first day.

But Sherlock Holmes had plans.

"Look at that man in the cab. He stopped at the address I gave him!" Pointed Sherlock while Jane turned to see him through the windows of the restaurant behind her.

"What address? How did you contact him?" Jane was confused to say the least.

"The suitcase had a label with the pink lady's number and email address. I send the killer a text with this address and there he is." Sherlock took his long coat "Don't stare!"

"You're staring as well!"

"We can't both stare!" Replied Sherlock and ran out the restaurant with Jane behind him.

The chase started badly, with a car almost driving over Sherlock and Jane running like if her life depended on it. As she was new in town, she followed Sherlock very closely through the endless alleys, some deserted streets and even rooftops!

Sherlock was so athletic and his long legs weren't helping at all when Jane had to jump from one rooftop to another one.

"Come on Jane!" Shouted Sherlock as he saw his friend back. She hesitated, but walked a few steps backwards and finally jumped and landed safely next to the taller boy easily and without any damage.

After a good five minutes running, that lasted like an hour or so to Jane, Sherlock jumped in front of a dark cab and opened the door. A man with an important suntan and impressive white teeth smiled as soon as he met the two teenagers who tried to catch their breath.

"He's not the right man," Admitted Sherlock as he shook his curly head and glanced at the man's luggage. A tag glued to his belongings and the word LAX confirmed his suspicions, the man inside that cab was just a tourist from the States.

"Who are you?" Asked the man and both teenager looked each other until Jane showed him a police ID.

"Police... if you need us, just let us now. 999, you know. Bye!"

The American guy nodded, a bit confused obviously. Why two people that looked more like teenager than two young police officers stopped his cab trip just to look at his luggage?

"Stealing DI Lestrade?"

Jane nodded. "I pick-pocket him once when he was being as annoying as always," She smiled and looked at her friend "Let's go home."

* * *

Sherlock didn't say a word while they walked back to Jane's house. He decided he was going to keep it a secret, unless Jane realised it by herself. She wasn't limping anymore. She was walking normally, even when she wasn't wearing those blue shoes she had fixed especially for her and her limp. However, they were getting closer and closer to the blonde girl's house when they saw two police cars outside and her window was wide open.

Jane ran the stairs and then to her room and she met her mother's worried face and Greg Lestrade talking to her while several police officers were going through her belongings.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked angrily. Sherlock looked at the state of her perfect and tidy room, which now looked more like a hell. Her clothes, her shoes and even all her books had been removed from their original place and they were all over the floor.

"This is... a drug bust." Greg replied with ease as Suzanne left the room.

Jane wanted to punch him in the face "Drug bust? I don't even smoke! Get the hell out of my room and tell them to stop touching my things! Who do you think you are?" Hissed Jane.

Greg took a deep breath. "I know you don't do drugs, Jane. But I knew Sherlock was going to be behind the famous suitcase, so -"

"So you planted this drug bust as an excuse to come here and check if the suitcase was here?"

The DI nodded. "Well, it was obvious Sherlock was going to be here, in your room. Listen, Jane, I won't tell Suzanne about him sleeping here -"

But the sweet and patient Jane lost her own control. "For the last time, we're not together! He's my friend!"

Greg nodded, and then he looked at Sherlock. "Where did you find it, kid?"

"Rubbish container. You should pay more attention, Detective Inspector. But certainly, I think I caught you a killer," Explained Sherlock while he walked towards Jane's computer. "Remember the word written besides the pink lady's body? 'Rache' is not a german word..."

"Yes, we checked on her. Rachel is the name of her still born daughter. What about it?"

"Jane, the email address on the suitcase's labe."

Jane read the email address Sherlock needed and then the teenager boy smiled.

"He has a smarthphone. They usually had a GPS system and with her email address and 'Rachel' as password we can trace her phone."

Greg shrugged, and Sherlock rolled his greyish eyes.

"The only missing thing here is her phone." Explained Sherlock while Jane looked at her computer screen.

"Sherlock?"

"What?"

"It's here," Jane showed him the screen and the GPS system showed the same address.

"But..."

"Guys, we're looking for a phone!" DI Greg Lestrade asked his officers to look up for a phone when Suzanne appeared behind him.

"Sherlock dear, there's a cab outside for you," Jane's mother made an special emphasis when she repeated the boy's name.

Jane frowned. "Mum, if you're trying to kick him out -"

Sherlock cut her off "No, it's OK. I'll take this cab. I need some... fresh air."

It seemed like no one cared. Greg continued looking for the missing phone with his men and Suzanne continued making tea for the officers. But Jane stood there and she knew something wrong was going on. Sherlock never needed fresh air, she knew it more than anyone else.

Her suspicions became bigger and bigger when the GPS system in her computer showed the phone was getting away from her house. Sherlock didn't have that phone. The killer has it.

The cabbie was the killer.

Jane looked at Greg. He was quite busy looking down her bed and several officers seemed to be enjoying her mother's tea. With a quick movement, she removed her keys and opened one of her desk drawers which had his father's gun perfectly hidden under old papers. She took it and hid it under her baggy jumper and without saying a word and with her computer on her hands, she made her way out.


	8. Speed of Sound

As soon as Sherlock left the house, he met an old man waiting outside his own cab.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes."

The teenager smiled. "I didn't order a taxi."

"Doesn't mean you don't need one. I'll tell you what else, if you call the coppers now I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're not going to do that."

"Am I not?"

"I didn't kill her, Mr. Holmes. I spoke to her and she killed herself. If you get the coppers now I promise you one thing: I will never tell you what I said."

That's when a very little but persistent idea he's got when he first looked at the pink lady's body returned. Who had been invisible enough to bring a woman from London to that small town to meet one of her lovers and then made her swallow a pill to kill herself, making the whole thing look like a suicide when it wasn't. "You're the cabbie. The one who stopped at Northumberland street. It was you, or your passenger?"

"No one ever thinks about a cabbie. You become invisible you see. Just the back of a head. Come with me."

Sherlock shrugged but the man didn't show any angry expression at all. "Or what?"

"You want to know how I did it, right? Of course you want. The great clever boy Sherlock Holmes wants to know the truth."

"How do you know my name?" Sherlock asked.

"I found your website. 'The Science of Deduction', impressive. Let's go for a ride."

"So you can kill me too." Replied Sherlock. But the bad man shook his head while he opened the door for his new passenger.

"I don't want to kill you, Mr. Holmes. I'm gonna talk to you, and then  _you_ are going to kill yourself."

Curiosity killed the cat. Sherlock got inside the taxi and the cabbie took him away from Jane's house. Two possibilities: He could be completely stupid and die, or he could be the clever boy he was and find out how he did it, how the cabbie made the pink lady swallow the pill and make all look like a suicide.

And also, find out who was the criminal mind behind all this. Because it was clear the cabbie wasn't.

* * *

With her father's gun under her baggy jumper and her computer on her hands, Jane left her house and decided she was going to follow her friend. Something was terribly wrong and while she tried to call Sherlock, he didn't pick up his phone. And Jane was so worried. Every second that passed by, thousands of different scenarios came to her mind haunting her with endless possibilities of Sherlock dying, being killed by the bad cabbie.

But she was not going to let that happen, no.

So taking that old bike she never rode again because of her limp, she placed the computer on the basket and followed the GPS system with her blue eyes. Jane wanted to cry, wanted to scream the entire police division in her room Sherlock was in danger but no one was going to believe her.

Jane rode her old bike decided, confident and without any fear. She was determined to save her friend, to save Sherlock.

No matter what.

* * *

During the ride the cabbie never stopped talking, saying how impressive he found Sherlock's website, and how lucky he was to finally meet him.

"Who's behind this?" Sherlock asked while he looked at the cabbie's eyes throughout the rear-view mirror. The man looked excited to say the least.

"Sherlock Holmes. I was warned about you. I've been on your website too. Brilliant stuff. Loved it."

"Who warned you about me?"

"Someone out there who's noticed."

"Who? Who would notice me?"

"You're too modest, Holmes."

"I'm really not."

"Got yourself a friend."

Sherlock was not surprised when the cab stopped at his school. The entire place was desert after the prom party and the pink lady's body has been removed by now. It was dark, but he followed the cabbie to one of the classrooms and they sat one in front of each other.

"You ready yet, Holmes? Ready to play?"

"Play what? It's a 50-50 chance."

The old man placed two bottles with one pill each. They looked similar, and anyone could have said they were made of the same. But they weren't.

"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff!" the cabbie said while he moved the bottles, exchanging their original places, obviously trying to confuse the boy.

"It's still just chance."

"It's not chance."

"So you risked your life just to kill an stranger. Why?" Sherlock asked looking at the cabbie with his piercing and alien greyish eyes.

"Time to play."

"Oh I am playing. This is my turn."

"When I die they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs. I have a sponsor."

Sherlock frowned "You have a what?"

"For every life I take money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. See? It's nicer than you think." Replied the bad cabbie.

"Who would sponsor a cabbie-killer?"

"Who would be a fan of Sherlock Holmes?"

* * *

Jane was breathless when she stop her ride and dropped her bicycle. The dark car was outside, neatly parked there. The GPS system was still working on her computer and it was pointing out the school. Sherlock was there, of course he was.

Now her main problem was finding the correct classroom. The school was big and it had two important buildings with more than fifty classrooms each.

Her instinct made her chose the left building and being as careful as she was, she removed the gun from inside her jumper and ran.

* * *

"What if I don't choose either? I could just walk out of here." Sherlock explained, twisting his mouth, trying to show how little he cared about the old man's threatening.

"You could take the 50-50 chance or I can shoot you in the head. Funny enough, no one's ever gone for that option."

"I'll have the gun please."

"Are you sure?" The old cabbie asked with a dark look on his eyes. Sherlock nodded.

"Definitely. The gun."

"You don't want to phone a friend?"

The dark haired teenager shook his head "The gun."

The cabbie removed a black gun from inside his cardigan's pocket, and he aimed at Sherlock and when he pulled the trigger, a small flame appeared.

"I know a real gun when I see one." Sherlock smiled at his small victory.

"None of the others did."

"Clearly."

"I bet you get bored, don't ya? I know you do. A kid like you. So clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it. But this, this is what you're really addicted to. You do anything, anything at all to stop being bored. You're not bored now are ya?"

Sherlock took a bottle and then the pill out of it. The cabbie mimicked his movements and then both were there, with half of the pill inside their mouths when a blonde girl cried Sherlock's name from the opposite classroom in the front building.

* * *

Jane ran and ran for minutes that seemed to be hours for her. The gun has heavy on her hand but she didn't care. She ran to each classroom until one caught her attention. The classroom in the front building had the lights on and then she saw two bodies. She recognised Sherlock, still wearing his dark suit and an old man. Both were in front of each other with their hands close to their mouths.

Sherlock was going to take a pill.

He was going to die.

"Sherlock!"

She tried to call him, but the teenager didn't hear her.

There was no time. She aimed the gun and shot.

* * *

"Fifty percent change, Holmes. Come on- Ah!"

From out of the blue, a shot throughout the window and the cabbie was now on the floor. For a moment Sherlock almost panicked, but he ran to the window and looked a the empty and dark classroom in the opposite building. No one was there.

"Okay, tell me this: your sponsor, who was it? The one who told you about me- my fan. I want a name."

"No!"

Sherlock stepped over the cabbie's bleeding shoulder and the man cried in pain. "You're dying and there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name. A name! Now! The NAME!"

"Moriarty!"

 _Moriarty_. A name he had never heard before, a name he wasn't aware of. But certainly, it was a name Sherlock would never forget.

_A name bound to be remembered._

* * *

A few minutes after the shot, the police arrived at the school building. The paramedics, contrary to his own words, checked on him and one of the female doctors gave him an orange blanket. And there he was, Sherlock Holmes sitting in the back of an ambulance being photographed by some police officers he knew before and Greg Lestrade smiling at him.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me!"

"Yeah. It's for shock." Greg replied, with a laugh and a big grin on his face. Sherlock Holmes and that strange case of suicide-murder had been the best thing that had happened to him Since he arrived at that little town not to far from London.

"I'm not in shock."

"Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs," Lestrade said while he pointed at some officers and the cameras on their hands. "You should visit the station in a few days, bet the entire office will be covered with photographs of the great Holmes kid in shock."

"Whatever."

Greg cleared his throat "Who did it, Sherlock?"

The teenager smiled before replying "The bullet they just dug out of the wall is from a handgun. A kill shot over that distance, from that kind of a weapon, that's a crack shot you're looking for but not just a marksman, a fighter. Her hands couldn't have shaken at all so clearly she's acclimatized to violence -"

"She?" Greg asked half surprised half shocked.

Sherlock nodded "Obviously. She didn't fire until I was in immediate danger though so strong moral principle. You're looking for a woman probably with a history of military service or knowledge on the subject probably because of an older sibling or maybe her parents, she also got nerves of steel... "

When Sherlock glanced away from Greg's figure, his greyish eyes met Jane. She was standing with her bicycle by her side next to some police cars. She waved him with her hand and he nodded, realising what he was talking about.

"Actually, do you know what, ignore me."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, ah, the shock talking." Said Sherlock while he left his place on the back of the ambulance.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to talk about the... summer holidays."

"I've still got questions for you." Greg half warned, half mocked him.

"Oh what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket."

As soon as Greg looked at Sherlock walking towards Jane's direction he smiled and decided to forget all about the subject.

"Are you all right?"

Jane nodded with a weak smile "Yes of course I'm alright."

"You have just killed a man."

"Yes, I... It's true. But he wasn't a very nice man. And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." Admitted Jane with a grin.

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie. You should have seen the route he took us to get here." Sherlock giggled.

"Stop. We can't giggle. It's a crime scene. Stop it."

"You're the one who shot him, not me."

Jane nodded once again and both started walking away the police officers and the school entrance.

"You were going to take that damn pill weren't you."

The boy shook his head "Of course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up."

"No you didn't. That's how you get your kicks isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever." Jane teased him.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot."

"Dinner?"

"Starving." Jane admitted with a hand over her stomach.

"I know a very good place a few streets away from here. You can always tell a good Chinese place by examining the bottom third of the door handle -"

"Sherlock!"

"What?"

Jane pointed at a tall man wearing a light brown suit. He was carrying a big umbrella and next to him, was a beautiful and smartly dressed woman with her eyes on her BlackBerry. "That's the man... the man who offered money to spy on you."

"Another case cracked. How very public spirited. Though that's never really your motivation, is it."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock said.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you."

"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern. Offering Jane money to cure her limp in exchange of information about me?"

"Always so aggressive. Didn't it ever occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no."

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer. And you know how it always upset Mummy."

"I upset her? Me? It isn't me that upsets her, Mycroft!"

Jane had been hearing the conversation between her friend and the strange man, everything was so confusing until the taller man mentioned a mysterious 'Mummy'.

"Wait! Mummy? Who's Mummy?" Jane cut them off with a confused look on her face.

" _Mother_. She's our mother" Sherlock admitted.

"He's your brother?" Asked Jane more confused than ever.

"Of course he's my brother,"

"So he's not..."

"Not what?" This time Mycroft Holmes frowned and looked down at her with a rather confused look.

Jane smiled a bit "I don't know, criminal mastermind?"

"Close enough." Affirmed Sherlock.

"For goodness sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government. When he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does for the traffic."

"So when you say you're concerned about him, you actually are concerned?" Asked Jane with a frown.

"Yes of course."

Sherlock was several feet away from her, so ignoring the taller man's look, Jane continued walking with her bicycle by her side.

"I can always predict the fortune cookies."

"No you can't, Sherlock."

"Almost can. You were taught how to shoot."

"Sorry?"

"Your father. He taught you how to aim and shoot."

"Oh yeah! Before he left to Iraq. He left me his gun."

"I thought so."

"No you didn't. What are you so happy about?"

Sherlock smiled at her "Moriarty."

"What's Moriarty?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Lucky for them, it was the start of the very much expected Summer holidays. They didn't know, but Jane Watson and Sherlock Holmes' friendship was going to be tested to a maximum.

The Summer was going to bring love, adventures and why not, a new mystery claiming to be solved.


	9. Charlie Brown

After their first case together, the one she titled as "A Study in Pink" for her not-so secret journal (Yes, Sherlock stole it and read it), Jane and Sherlock continued their friendship as always. Jane was happier than ever. She was able to run, jump and walk like anyone else and she felt different. It had been two years doing therapy, visiting several doctors who tried to sell her the cure for her limp, and being bullied at every school she attended to. The only cure Jane needed was a friend. And that friend was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock cured and fixed Jane Watson's body and soul without even knowing. He would do little about her bad days, but he was still there for her. He wasn't that kind of friend who would neither hold hands nor tell you how much he loved you, but he was a true friend and that's all Jane asked for. She wouldn't be angry at him for not being open enough or affective. She accepted him just like he was.

And Jane knew she had done good things for him as well. Sherlock stopped doing horrible experiments with frogs and scaring the maids, he started to be more human. Sherlock also developed a part of him he believed it was missing on him. He always believed he was born without a heart. Well, the abstract concept heart, if you ask me. Don't worry, because he had a heart indeed, that beat inside his chest, yes. But he had the heart full of sentiments and feelings inside him as well. With Jane, Sherlock discovered what was a bit not good to do, how to handle Molly and her obvious and sometimes annoying crush and how to understand people beyond the facts. He would never forgot her words,  _"You can't only deduce people's facts, you have to understand them and feel them."_

The summer break started with both friends practically living in each other's houses. There were days in which Suzanne was away one night or maybe a weekend and Sherlock would go and stay with Jane. One of those weekends, Sherlock helped Jane painting her ceiling and once it was finished, he glued the stars her father bought for her before he left to Iraq. And in the nights, those starts shone above them.

Everything was good and exciting until Jane told Sherlock she needed a job.

It was pointless, Sherlock told her, but she insisted she needed one if she wanted some pocket money for herself. So after looking and looking, Jane got an interview in the local surgery. They needed a part time receptionist and there was Jane, smartly dressed for the job interview walking down the streets, not knowing someone was looking at her closely.

Oh, if only Sherlock knew who she was going to meet!

Jane agreed when Sherlock call her after her interview and asked her if she wanted to have lunch with him. She was over the moon. It was hard not to see how happy, and how hopelessly in love Jane was when Sherlock took her to Angelo's restaurant.

  
The main subject of their long talk wasn't only about the job, but about Sam Sawyer and how charming he was.

"I got the job, Sherlock," Jane said while her friend only nodded. "Sam told me I can start tomorrow." She added.

Jane told Sherlock everything she knew about Sam Sawyer. He was the son of the owner of the local surgery. He was three years senior, and he was in Med School, obviously following his father's footsteps. The blonde boy with green eyes clearly flirted with Jane and gave her the job, even when Jane was seventeen years old and there were several experienced young woman applying for the job.

Sherlock didn't like him.

Jane started working part time during the mornings. This certainly made lowered the time Sherlock was able to see his friend. Sometimes he would pick her up after her shift to have lunch together and sometimes he would go to her home once he knew she was there. Until one day, Jane turned down one of their scheduled afternoons together because she had a date.

Sam invited Jane out.

And that afternoon, Sherlock played the violin violently until his fingertips bled.

Without knowing Sam Sawyer, Sherlock knew he was going to hurt Jane. That boy, who he knew believed he was cool just because he was in university and because he was older.

If only Sherlock could have told Jane this!

The blonde, sweet and patient Jane continued working in the local surgery the whole summer, and she earned enough money which put aside for something she didn't know what, but she knew she was going to need that money someday. She continued seeing Sherlock, but it was different. It was different because there was someone else inside Jane's mind.

Sherlock felt himself neglected.

His experiments weren't the same, somehow he couldn't get to the probationary stage. The violin seemed to be boring and certainly, he forgot how Jane's stars on her ceiling shone during the nights. She stopped texting him and he stopped visiting her as he did.

It became awkward, until one day Jane was outside his front door, ringing his bell.

"Sam asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend." Jane said as soon as she sat besides his friend on his big beg.

"And why are you telling me this?"

Jane shrugged. "You're my friend. I want to know your opinion," She took a deep breath and continued. "I want you to meet him."

"I don't really see why you need my approval to be his  _girlfriend._  And about meeting him, it looks impossible to me since I have a very busy agenda." Replied Sherlock coldly as he picked his violin from the floor.

To be honest, Jane only thought it was another one of Sherlock's sulking moments. She knew he wasn't the best when it was about feelings and sentiment. She ignored him and his comments and asked him to play for her.

Sherlock couldn't say no. He played her favourite song, 'Us Against the World' by Coldplay. A song he learned meticulously only because Jane loved it. He never played those kind of songs. Classic music was his cup of tea, but when it was about Jane, Sherlock could do anything.

Even if it meant he had to meet Sam Sawyer.

* * *

Jane invited Sherlock to have dinner with her and her mother one Saturday night when DI Greg Lestrade arrived. He looked quite tired, but he also had a strange sparkle on his dark eyes.

"Sherlock, there has been a break in in the Bank of London. The manager, Sebastian Wilkes, says he knows you and he wants you in the case." Explained Greg as soon as he saw the clever boy.

Holmes nodded and agreed to visit Wilkes, who was one of his father's acquaintances, the following morning in company of his best assistant.

"Ah, Sherlock! Look at you, a grown man, aren't you!" Said the Bank Manager as soon as he saw Sherlock inside his office. Then his eyes travelled until he met Jane's figure standing besides the young boy.

"This is Jane Watson, my friend."

"Colleague." Jane corrected him with a serious expression on her face and while Sebastian Wilkes nodded, Sherlock looked at her confused.

"Travelling twice around the world last month? Impressive."

Wilkes laughed loudly and Jane looked at him confused.

"You're doing that thing again, aren't you?" He pointed at Sherlock with his index finger and then turned to Jane "When he was a kid, during a Christmas party his father was hosting he told everyone I was cheating on my wife," Sebastian explained with a grin on his face. "I hated him. We all thought he was a  _freak_."

Jane could see the pain in Sherlock's face. She knew her friend enough to tell when he was hurt or not. And certainly that Wilkes man's words hurt him.

"I was simply observing."

Sebastian laughed even more. "Tell me, there's a stain of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan? Or is the mud in my shoes?"

Sherlock just smiled. "I was chatting with your secretary outside."

"He's brilliant, isn't he, sweetie?" This question was addressed to Jane. She only smiled, but it was clear she did not like that man.

The only thing Sherlock told her about Wilkes was about his work and how he knew him and why he possibly asked for him on the case. Sebastian Wilkes was the Manager of the Bank of London, and he was one of the most important of Sherlock's father's acquaintances in Britain. And now after he had mentioned the incident about Wilkes affair, Jane understood why that man wanted Sherlock to investigate, even when he was still in school.

"We had a break in."


	10. Yellow

That morning, Sherlock spent  ten minutes inspecting a big room at the third floor of the Bank of London, moving from one side to another, keeping silence and receiving some amusing looks from some secretaries and other employers.

"Are you going to tell me something, anything about the break in?"

"The painting, it can only be seen from this office," Said Sherlock while he looked at the office's owner's name, 'Eddie Van Coon'.

Jane looked at him expectantly, "So you're looking for Eddie Van Coon now?"

" _We_  are looking for him now, let's go."

"I'm not going to ask you how you deduced about Mr. Wilkes's trips around the world, but I'm not going with you now." Jane warned his friend as she glanced at her watch.

Sherlock looked at her and without saying a word, he hailed a cab and dragged her inside.

"We don't even know where he lives!"

The teenager shook his head and took his phone out of his pocket, "There mustn't be too many Van Coon's in the city."

* * *

"Look, new label. Must be new in the building." Said Sherlock while he pointed at the label over Van Coon's.

Jane shook her head and continued glancing at her watch now and then. The young boy rang the bell and waited.

" _Hello?_ "

A young woman's voice replied and Sherlock looked at Jane before replying back.

"Hello, I live in the floor below, I think we haven't met."

Jane wanted to laugh. Sherlock was just faking a very nice and soft tone of voice, something that never happened in reality.

" _Yes, I've just moved in._ "

Sherlock nodded, "Actually, I just locked my keys in my flat!"

" _You want me to buzz you in?_ "

"Yeah, and can I use your balcony?"

" _What?_ "

Sherlock managed to convince Eddie Van Coon's neighbour that he was indeed Eddie Van Coon and that he could manage to come into his flat by jumping off her balcony.

As soon as he was in, he could take mental note of the things there. It was neat, clean and there weren't any signs of a break in, though Sherlock was convinced of the opposite. And his suspicions were confirmed as soon as he opened one of the room's door and he found the dead body of Eddie Van Coon with a gun on his hand and blood all over his head.

* * *

"Look at this, Jane," Sherlock was knelt on the floor and wearing white gloves, he inspected an open luggage close to the murdered man's bed, "He has been away for a few days, three judging by the dirty clothes."

The blonde girl nodded, "Yeah."

"Problem?"

"I'm not desperate to root around someone's dirty underwear, Sherlock. And I have to go, my shift starts in -"

Sherlock ignored Jane's comments and proceeded to examine the body. He looked at Van Coon's hands and then to his clothes and finally, he found something inside his mouth. A black lotus flower made of paper.

"He was being threatened -"

"You must be Jane Watson. I have specific orders to let you come into this particular crime scene." Said a man in his middle thirties. He was short, with slightly dark hair and green eyes.

"Yes, I'm Jane."

"Ah, Sargent, we haven't met. I'm Sherlock Holmes."

The young teenager offered his hand to the man, but he shook his head and handed him a plastic bag to secure the evidence.

"I know. And it's not Sargent, it's Detective Inspector Dimmock." He replied with a cold voice and a serious tone.

"Where's Lestrade?"

"On holiday with my mum, I've told you they left this morning, Sherlock." Jane explained rolling her blue eyes and glancing again at her watch.

The D.I. neither of the teenager knew turned around and started instructing the forensic team.

"You don't know him?" Asked Jane.

"He's not new, but he has been recently promoted from another division."

"I think we have a suicide then." Dimmock said as soon as both teenagers approached him on Van Coon's living room.

"That's the only one and possible explanation -" Jane replied, trying to be polite, but Sherlock cut her off.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like but you're choosing to ignore anything that doesn't comply with it."

D.I. Dimmock looked at him, "What?"

"The wound's on the right side of his head."

"And?" Dimmock shrugged.

"Van Coon was left-handed." Replied back Sherlock, shrugging and imitating the D.I.'s movement.

"Left-handed?"

"I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat. Coffee table on the left-hand side. Coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets, habitually used the one's on the left. Pen and paper on the left hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. Do you want me to go on?" Sherlock said while he pointed at every thing he was talking about and the D.I. in charge nodded in agreement.

"No I think you've covered it." Jane almost begged him to stop, but her friend ignored her.

"Oh I might as well I'm almost at the the bottom of the list. There's a knife on the bread board with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts."

"But the gun -"

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened."

Jane looked at the D.I. who was as confused as the member of the forensic team "We saw some marks on the walls of his office at the Bank."

Suddenly, Sherlock stormed out Van Coon's flat, leaving Jane alone.

"I'd better..." She said pointing at Sherlock and left the place as well.

* * *

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant."

Sebastian Wilkes was having lunch in one of the most posh places in the city when Sherlock arrived to let him know his first conclusions. The Bank manager almost choked with his food as soon as he saw the teenager there in company of his friend.

"I'm in a kind of a meeting, Sherlock. Make an appointment with my secretary." Said Sebastian while he drank more of his wine and smiled at his friends.

"This can not wait. One of your traders, someone who works in your office was killed."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry for interrupting such lovely lunch. Maybe would tomorrow at 9 a.m at the NSY suit?"

Wilkes apologised to his friends and went outside with the teenagers.

"The police told me it was a suicide."

Sherlock shook his head "Well they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered."

"Well. I'm afraid they don't see it like that. And neither do I. I hired you to do a job. Don't get sidetracked."

The teenager looked at his friend and she shook her head.

"I'm going to work. Try not to get too excited with this Sherlock. And be careful." Jane warned him with a hand over his arm.

"I'm not a child." Replied back Sherlock and she nodded with a smile.

"No, you're not. But promise me you won't burn my room while I'm out."

* * *

While Jane was working, Sherlock moved all the things he needed to use to Jane's room. He was going to investigate there and he was determinate to solve the case. He really didn't care about Sebastian's money. He was wealthy enough to live enough lifetimes thank you very much. But the thrill of a case, the clues, and brain work, yeah, that's what made Sherlock work hard on the case.

Another thing was Jane. She was spending far too much time with that Sam Sawyer guy and Sherlock didn't approve him at all.

He himself saw a note over Jane's desk.

_"Let's go out,_

_you and me._

_Wherever you like,_

_Sam XXX"_

The handwriting, such a revealing thing. That boy was worthless. That boy didn't deserve Jane.

How many hours passed since Jane left? His hands were still glued together under his chin when he heard the door open. Jane walked until she was sitting next to him over her bed and then she looked at all the things Sherlock had put on her blackboard.

"Any progress?"

Sherlock handed him his computer to take a look at the news.

" _'Killer who walks through walls'_?This is getting bigger isn't it?"

The boy nodded as he took his coat and his blue scarf, "Let's go, we have another crime scene to look at."


	11. Trouble

It took them a few minutes until they were in front of D.I. Dimmock's desk, Sherlock with his laptop explaining his deductions about the case, and how the two murders could be related.

Next to him was Jane, tired, but still supporting his friend's theory. Dimmock glanced at her now and then, and she nodded at Sherlock's last comment.

"You have to admit it, they are clearly related. Both were killed by someone who doesn't leave prints and looks like he can climb the walls."

"You have seen the ballistic reports."

The D.I. nodded.

"And the bullet inside his head didn't belong to the gun he had on his hand."

"Yes."

"So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you take my words as the same bible."

But seeing Dimmock was still doubting, Sherlock moved further.

"You're new in this division and you need a good case to prove you are good for it. I'm just giving you one."

"The catch?" Asked Dimmock.

"Five minutes in his flat. And Jane comes with me."

And there they were, Sherlock and Jane with Dimmock walking close to them inspecting the flat and looking for more clues. They spotted a black paper lotus flower, books and papers all over the place, clearly the killer was looking for something and finally a little window.

"That's how he got in."

"What?"

"He climbs buildings."

"You're not being serious, like Spiderman? You kid watch far too many action movies -"

"He did the same on Van Coon's office at the Bank -"

"Oh, come on -"

"The doors weren't forced. He climbed the walls. But I need to find the connection between these two men..."

An orange book caught Sherlock's eye. And now our young little detective and his friend Jane Watson were on their way to a famous bookshop. Despite Jane's complains, Sherlock make her look at some bookshelves and she finally found a yellow graffiti, the very same one they saw at the Bank of England.

"Don't you see this, Jane?" Sherlock asked her while he pointed at the black board of her room. "This two murders are connected."

Jane shrugged. "Why did they die, Sherlock? Why the graffities?"

"Fancy a visit round a nice place in the city?" Asked Sherlock, looking at Jane.

Jane only nodded tiredly. "Only if you take me to some nice cafe. I want tea."

* * *

Both Jane and Sherlock were walking close to a very nice part of the city when they spotted a boy about their age or maybe a bit older with two aerosol paint sprays. He was as tall as Sherlock, blonde with a very modern look.

"Working in a new exhibition," Said the teenager without turning around. He continued painting while Sherlock started looking at his phone for the photographs of the yellow graffiti in both crime scenes "Who's your friend?"

"Jane Watson. Now look at this and tell me, do you know the author?"

The boy looked at Jane and winked at her, and Sherlock spotted this.

"And?"

"I can recognise the brand, but it does not seem a proper language to me."

"Two people have been murdered, and we need to find who killed them."

The boy frowned. "You want me to look all round the city?"

"We need your help."

"Well, if the lady here needs me, I'll ask and spread the word." Said the teenager while he looked at Jane. She only smiled a bit.

True to be told, Jane was not used to get so much attention coming from the opposite sex. Since the prom party, and since Sherlock made her run only to help him from an evil cabbie, Jane never limped again and her walking stick was now lying under her bed to never see the sunlight. Since that day and since she got a new job at the local surgery as a receptionist, Jane had changed her look, and now she was taking more care of herself wearing subtle make up, and with a job, she was able to afford new clothes as well.

Sherlock noticed that, of course he did. They practically lived together when Sherlock used to stay at her house or sometimes Jane would go to his. He knew her like if they had lived a lifetime together. And male attention towards his friend made him act defensively always.

And this time, when the police appeared round the corner, he took the boy's hand and ran, living Jane alone with a bag full of paint sprays.

* * *

Jane slammed the front door of her house and ran the stairs with a very angry face.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"Took your time to come back."

"Well, you know how the police is, the time they take to do paperwork, and then they called Lestrade -"

"Why did they call Lestrade?"

"I TOLD THEM TO DO SO BECAUSE THEY WERE GOING TO CALL MY MUM!"

"And?"

"And? If my mum knows I'm hanging out with a boy who likes to paint public buildings she will ground me for the rest of my damn life!"

Jane sat on her bed and started to remove her coat when Sherlock took her by her arms. "No, go back to the police station. I need you to ask Dimmock for the journalist diary or something that tell us about his movements. I'll visit Van Coon's PA."

Sherlock really planned this, because outside her house was a cab already waiting for her. But before she got in, she saw a woman taking photographs.

Jane ignored her.

* * *

"Your friend -"

"Listen, D.I. Dimmock, whatever you have to say, I agree one hundred percent."

"He's an arrogant sod."

Jane smiled a bit and sighed. She was so used to people saying those things about her friend.

"Well, that was mild. People usually say worst."

But it hurt her.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, the journalist's diary?"

"Yes, thank you -"

"You should stay away from him, Miss Watson."

Jane shook her head.

"Excuse me, but you're no one to say -"

"Lestrade told me to keep an eye on you both."

"And Lestrade is not my father," Jane said with an angry tone "Sherlock will be in touch."


	12. Viva la Vida

After paying a visit to a lovely but scaring China Town and then breaking into a woman's flat, Jane thought she had seen too many things for one day and that she had experienced too many emotions as well. First, a Chinese woman suggesting Sherlock to get a lucky cat for her, again assuming they were a couple and then waiting for Sherlock to open the door of the mysterious flat Sherlock insisted he needed to break in.

A note led them to the National Antiquities Museum where a nice man told them Soon Lin Yao, a young woman who used to work there, was missing and no one knew a thing about her. They discovered more graffities in her workplace and that's the moment when they knew they had to move fast.

However, it was late when they saw again that boy who liked to paint public buildings. He told them he had spread the word and he got some news about the painting. It looked like it was a code indeed, or a special language they did not know about, and later they were walking among the railways looking for clues.

"Why don't you pick up your phone? I found something!"

Sherlock ran after Jane but they only found someone had painted the wall again.

"I... I don't understand, it was just here, I saw it!"

"Someone didn't want me to see it... Jane, I need you to concentrate, close your eyes!"

Sherlock placed his hands on Jane's shoulders and they both started moving on circles together while Sherlock instructed her to keep her eyes closed and think carefully about the graffiti Jane saw.

"Why, what are you doing Sherlock?"

"I need you to maximize your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"

"Yeah!"

"Can you remember it?"

"Yeah!"

"How much can you remember it?"

"Why?"

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate."

"Yeah well don't worry, I remember all of it."

"Really?"

Jane broke the contact and removed her phone from her pockets. "Yeah well at least I would if I can get to my pockets. I took a photograph."

The sun was on the sky when Sherlock finished translating all the codes they had found with a dictionary. They were all Chinese numbers, and they were all in pairs and there they were, on Jane's room. She was fighting the urge to fall asleep while Sherlock was still standing close to her black board looking at all the photographs of evidence they had.

"They are a message, Jane! The killer left the victims a message... a code. It is like he wants something back..."

"Yeah."

"Let's go, we need to talk to Soon Lin Yao."

Jane moaned "But she's missing!"

"No, she isn't. I know exactly where we can find her."

It turned out that the Chinese missing young woman was hiding herself into the Museum, where she kept working on the famous tea pots she was in charge of before disappearing. Sherlock successfully explained her why he needed her to tell him why she was hiding herself and the story behind the killer, if she knew him.

Soon Lin Yao told them everything. When she was a little girl she belonged to a criminal organization called "Black Lotus Tong" and that they were all involved in smuggling valuable antiquities from China to sell in London. She also showed them her tattoo on her foot, a mark all the "soldiers" who belonged to that organization had.

"They are looking for something someone stole from them."

"You don't know who it was?" Asked Jane.

"I refused to help."

"Can you tell us about these codes?"

"They are numbers -"

"We know those are numbers, but it's a code."

"All the smugglers know it. It's based on a book -"

All the lights were off and the gunfire started. Jane tried to hide with Soon Lin Yao and Sherlock ran after the killer. It was clear that he was there to kill them, they were very close to finally find out everything about the string of murders, the code, very close to solve the case.

A few minutes later Jane decided to help Sherlock and she left the young Chinese woman alone, but she truly regretted it when she heard a shot and then she found Soon Lin Yao's dead body with a black lotus flower on her hand.

* * *

"Oh come on, Dimmock! How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac is out there? A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him!" Moaned Jane.

"Brian Lukis and Eddie van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers. A gang called The Black Lotus. Operating here in London right under your nose."

"Can you prove that?" Replied D.I. Dimmock with a look of disbelief.

Sherlock grinned. "Molly Hooper will help us."

"Molly?" Asked Jane, surprised.

"Molly Hopper has a part time job at the mortuary. I can get five minutes with the body."

True to be told, with fakes smiles and a compliment, Sherlock got his precious five minutes with Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis's bodies. Breaking all the rules, Molly showed them their feet, as Sherlock requested and Dimmock accepted he had a point.

"What do you want?"

"I want Van Coon and Lukis' books."

"Their books?"

* * *

Back at Jane's house, Sherlock explained his views and ideas about the murders. It was all based on a web of smugglers from China who were looking for someone who stole something from them. The codes worked as a message, and it looked like it was a special code based on a special book.

"Sherlock... what's is Dimmock doing here with all those books?"

All the police officers carried boxes full of books and soon they were there all inside Jane's room.

"The numbers are references from the books."

Jane pouted "So... fifteen and one -"

"Page fifteen, the first word you read."

"Okay... so what's the message?"

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code."

Jane knew Sherlock was not going to give her time to sleep. He was not even going to stop it and Jane reluctantly started to look for the books. Sherlock would looks for the similar ones between Van Coon's and Lukis' and then she would take down notes for the words.

"This was found on the crime scene." Said Dimmock while he handed Jane a picture of the wall she saw on the railways.

"Thanks," replied Jane.

"Is there anything I can do to help -"

"Silence would be marvelous." Replied Sherlock sarcastically and Dimmock looked at Jane. She only apologised for him and all the police officers left her house.

They spent the whole night looking at the books until Jane's clock announce her it was time to go to work.

* * *

"Where is Jane? I asked her to bring me the supplies ten minutes ago!"

Said one of the doctors to Sam Sawyer, who was working that day in the local surgery. The boy frowned and apologised for her.

Sam went to the supplies room, where he found Jane sleeping over a desk.

"I'm so sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to -"

"It's OK. I helped some of the doctors and answered one or two phone calls."

"One or two?" Asked Jane with a shy smile.

"Well... maybe five or six."

"I'm sorry, I was so silly."

"It's OK."

"I'll see you -"

"What were you doing... " Asked Sam with genuine curiosity. "I mean, you were really tired, it looked like you didn't sleep at all."

"I was attending a sort of book event." Replied Jane, trying to find the proper words to say. She wasn't going to explain she had been going through books to find a killer.

"Oh, he likes books does he, your  _boyfriend_."

"No! I mean, it wasn't a date..."

Sam and Jane exchanged a look and they arranged a date.

* * *

When Jane arrived back at her house, she found Sherlock still looking at the books. He looked quite tired, but still excited about the case.

"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight."

"Actually I've got a date." Replied Jane with a big smile on her face.

"What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun. You know this, Sherlock."

"That's what I was suggesting."

Jane rolled her eyes "No, Sherlock! Sam and I, we are going out tonight!"

Sherlock turned to face her. "Where is he taking you?"

"I don't know, he told me to suggest a place -"

"Try this."

Sherlock handed Jane a piece of paper with an inscription about a Chinese circus, which was presenting a show and some novelty acts for one night only.

"Thanks, but I don't need this."

"I'll phone the place, get you the reservations. You go to sleep."

Jane only nodded because she was really tired.

* * *

Sam was walking by Jane's side when they reached the place where the Chinese circus was holding the show. She admitted her friend had suggested the place and that she knew nothing about it.

"Hi, I've two tickets reserved for tonight."

"Yes, name?"

"Er, Holmes."

The guy who sold the tickets showed her a paper "Actually, I've three tickets under that name."

Sam looked at Jane and she started to feel a bit nervous. Jane had a feeling...

"I don't think so, we only booked two -"

"Then I called back and booked one for myself too," Sherlock said when he appeared behind Jane. He looked at Sam and extended his hand "I'm Sherlock."

Sam hesitated for a moment. He looked at Sherlock with a strange look and then he shook Sherlock's hand. "Hi."

"You can't give me a night off, can you?!"

"Exit Visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now all I need to do is have a quick look around the place. I'm sure the killer is here, in this circus!" Explained Sherlock, totally making sense and justifying his reasons to be there.

"Fine. You do that, I'm going to ask Sam if we can go to some pub - "

"I need your help!"

"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening."

"Like what?" Asked Sherlock looking at Jane's blue eyes.

"You are kidding." Jane moaned.

"What's so important?"

"Sherlock, I am right in the middle of a date, I  _never_  had a date!," Admitted Jane with a blush. "You want to chase some killer while I'm trying -"

"What?"

"While I'm trying to go outf with Sam!" Sam appeared behind them and Jane smiled shyly. "Hey... ready?"

They were getting ready to see the first show, and Sherlock had enough time to take a closer look at Sam Sawyer. The boy was tall, as tall as Sherlock was, with blonde hair and green eyes. He was acceptably well dressed. There was something Sherlock couldn't lay a finger on. Jane was standing close to him, and she was wearing a strong but sweet perfume. He knew how these things worked, he had read enough to understand Jane was trying to catch Sam attention and be more than just friends, and Sam caught that, of course he did. But Sherlock did not understand why they had to play that game. If they both wanted to be together, why don't say it, why don't do it?

However, Sherlock didn't like Sam Sawyer. There was something he didn't like about him and he didn't want Jane to be close to him. Sherlock really loved Jane, she was his best and only friend, and he didn't want to see her getting hurt because of an insignificant and stupid man who believed he was better than the others because he was in university.  
Sherlock knew Jane was going to get hurt.

Sherlock saw the looks, the shy and subtle touches. He hated Sam Sawyer.

But as soon as he found a moment to go backstage and investigate more, he almost get killed. It got out of his hands until he fell into the stage and Jane ran after him. Sam successfully knocked out one of the Chinese man who was hitting Sherlock and they ran.

* * *

"I've sent some cars, and my men are looking through the Chinese circus. You better be right about this -"

"I saw the tattoo on his feet! The mark of the Black Lotus." Explained Sherlock. they both went to Dimmock's office after the episode on the Chinese circus.

"And what are they looking for?"

Sherlock didn't answer, and Jane sighed and did it for him, because she knew Sherlock was not going to admit it.

"We don't know."

"You don't know? Look, Lestrade told me to follow your instructions," Said D.I. Dimmock looking at Sherlock. "But I have nothing but a large bill for all the inconveniences you have been causing to my division."

Defeated, they all went back to Jane's house. Even Sam.

"Well, I better be off then."

"No you can stay -"

"Yes please, go away." Said Sherlock over Jane's words.

Jane smiled awkwardly. "He's joking, please, stay."

While Sherlock worked on the codes, Jane went downstairs to get something to eat, leaving Sherlock and Sam alone.

"So you and Jane are friends?" Asked Sam while he looked at the black board hanging on the wall, full of pictures and clues and codes he didn't understand a thing about.

Sherlock only sighed inwardly. "Yes."

"And you solve puzzles together?"

"I'm a consulting detective for the police." Replied Sherlock coldly and Sam only nodded.

Sherlock wasn't able to stand Sam's presence, not even when the young man took one of Sherlock's pictures and glanced at it.

"Each number is a cipher and it means a word."

"Yes - How do you know?"

"Here, two words have been translated here." Pointed Sam.

"Jane!"

"What?"

"Look, Soon Lin Yao translated some numbers for us at the museum. I need to go there! It was written all in front of us!"

Before Jane could say a word, Sherlock ran outside her house and started walking along the streets, looking for a cab when he glanced at two different tourists. Both of them were reading the famous AZ London, and in that moment, Sherlock got it. Soon Lin Yao told them every smuggler knew the code because it was on a book, and he knew, because he had been looking with Jane, the clues were on a book everyone owned, and on a book everyone knew about.

He had to tell Jane about this, he was very close to solve the case.

But his hopes vanished on the air when he ran back to Jane's house and then to her room, only to find a graffiti painted on Jane's window and silence.

Sherlock knew what that meant... they had Jane.


	13. Paradise

Everything was dizzy, nothing was making sense. Jane's head was aching, and the pain was almost unbearable.

She was able to taste blood on her lips and mouth, she had to be bleeding somewhere. Jane could barely understand what was going on, and when she opened her eyes, everything was dark and she couldn't distinguish where she was.

Jane was sitting on a chair, her arms were tied behind her back and her shoulder was aching again. She was also sure her limp was back and as soon as she tilted her head, she saw Sam just as she was, sitting on a chair with his hands tied, but his mouth was covered with a fabric, stopping him from screaming. Jane looked into Sam's eyes, he was afraid, there was pure fear in them. Jane just wanted to assure him everything was going to be alright, that somehow they would be OK, that they would successfully escape and that they would forget this, this hell and this stupid case. If only.

A Chinese woman, presumably in her mid-forties slowly stepped forward until she was inches away from Sam's head and aimed a gun straight at him.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket. Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

Jane gulped. "He's not Sherlock Holmes."

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it. Three times we tried to kill you and Sherlock Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight? It tells you that they're not really trying, dear. If we wanted to kill you both we would have done so by now. We just wanted to make you less inquisitive," the woman said, mockingly. "Okay, back to business. Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?" Sam asked, looking puzzled and very frightened.

"The treasure."

"What treasure? I don't know what you're talking about," Jane cut in, genuinely curious.

The woman in dark clothes, still holding the gun, chuckled sarcastically. "I would prefer to be certain. Everything in the West has its price. And the price for her life, information. Where's the hairpin?"

Jane blinked. "What?"

"Should we ask him, then? Let's see," the woman took Jane's wallet, which was in one of Sam's jacket pockets after Jane told him to take care of it after getting their tickets for the Chinese circus, "A credit card and a check with the name  _'Sherlock Holmes'_  written on them, and ticket reservations under the name of  _'Sherlock Holmes'_ ,"

The woman made a special emphasis while she pronounced Sherlock's name and Jane started to panic.

"I know what it looks like, but he's not Sher- "

"That hairpin is valued at nine million pounds. We already have a buyer in the West. And then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London. And you and Sherlock Holmes have been searching," said the woman, still aiming at Sam's head.

Sam was panicking. He wasn't able to speak, but his green eyes were rather successfully expressing the fear he was experiencing. Jane was almost screaming that he was not the guy those freakish Chinese were looking for, and he could feel that gun come closer and closer to his head. The woman had her finger on the trigger, and there wasn't any doubt she was willing to pull it and shoot him.

"Please, please. Listen to me. Listen! He's not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me! We haven't found whatever it is you're looking for!" Jane pleaded, her eyes large.

"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant, moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes's pretty companion in a death-defying act."

Jane was panicking now. She tried to move, but her hands were tightly tied behind her back, her legs weren't responding as she wanted them to and the old woman had her finger on the trigger.

She was going to shoot.

"Please!"

She pulled the trigger, but there wasn't any bullet.

"A little game. But now we're going to play the final act. You've seen it before, how dull for you," the Chinese woman said as she moved until she was close to a sand bag hanging from the rooftop. "You know how it ends, don't you?"

"He's not Sherlock Holmes!" Jane screamed.

"And I don't believe you."

Suddenly, they could hear some fast steps coming and the shadow of a thin and tall young man was visible on the walls.

"You should, you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, Jane? Resourceful, dynamic? Enigmatic?"

Jane wanted to laugh of pure happiness and relief. "Late" she breathed, but the Chinese woman stabbed the sand bag with a knife and the only thing they could do was watch. They were trapped, and it Sam was in the middle of it.

Then, there was a mess Jane can't still remember even now. The only things she could hear was Sherlock running to get the Chinese woman and her two hit men. She fell to the floor and with the last strength left on her body, she moved her legs until she could kick Sam's chair. Eventually, Sam fell to the floor before the Chinese trap got him and killed him.

The Chinese woman and the hit men managed to escape and Jane felt like crying when she felt Sherlock untying her hands, and assuring her they were fine.

"Are you alright?"

"Took you time," Jane half smiled.

Sherlock didn't help Sam. Jane did it, she undid the fabric on his mouth and on his hands and sat with him on the floor. She rubbed his back as he let both of his hands ran on his hair.

"Next date won't be like this," Jane said with a hopeful smile.

Sam nodded, silently.

* * *

"So... it was all written on the AZ London book?"

Sherlock nodded. "The Chinese symbols were numbers, each number were a word. They were looking for a hairpin," explained the young boy while he sipped more coffee on their way to the Bank.

"And it's worth nine million pounds? Just a hairpin? Why so much?" asked Jane.

"Depends who owned it. You go and talk to Sebastian, I'll have a chat with Van Coon's secretary."

* * *

"He brought you a present, when he came back from China,"

A blonde woman in her late twenties, early thirties turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway of Van Coon's office.

"Oh, hello. Mr. Wilkes told me you solved the case."

Sherlock nodded.

"Excuse me, how do you know that?" the young secretary asked.

"You weren't just his PA, were you?" Sherlock asked, not caring about the tone of his voice and what his question implied.

"Someone has been gossiping -"

"No, I don't need gossip, I saw it. And he brought you a present from abroad."

She nodded.

"Can I just have a look at it?"

The young woman nodded again and removed a green hairpin from her hair. Sherlock smiled just a bit as soon as he looked at it.

"It's cheap, he said he got it in a street market,"

Sherlock shook his head. "That's not true,"

"Well, that was Eddy after all," she smiled and Sherlock handed her the hairpin back.

"He just didn't know its value. Just thought it would suit you."

The PA chuckled "Oh, what's it worth?"

"Nine million pounds." Sherlock replied easily.

"What? Oh my god! Nine million!"

* * *

Sebastian signed a check and handed it to Jane. She smiled and took it with pleasure.

"D.I. Dimmock phoned me. He really climbed up onto the balcony?"

Jane nodded and smiled. She really was enjoying this, the moment Sherlock solved a case. It was like if he saved the world... well, a very, very tiny part of it.

"Just nail a plank across the window and all your problems are over."

* * *

"That was fun, except for the kidnapping bit."

Sherlock looked at Jane, from head to toes. She was wearing a nice dress, a green one and matching kitten heels. It was another day Sherlock lying on Jane's bed while she was getting ready for another date with that Sam Sawyer guy.

And still, Sherlock didn't like him at all.

Sam invited Jane out, to a nice restaurant, and it was all written over Jane and they way she was brushing her blonde hair, the way she looked at herself at the mirror, even the new perfume she was wearing.

"I'm going out with Sam tonight."

Sherlock stood up, getting himself ready to leave, when Jane took his arm. "You can stay, Sherlock."

But the boy shook his head and said he had some experiments to look after. His parents were abroad again and Mycroft was away as well. It was an excuse. Sherlock really didn't want to stay there.

After so much time together in which they knew each other so well, so well that Jane was able to say when Sherlock was lying, when Sherlock was really hungry, when Sherlock was sulking... And Sherlock knew Jane as well. And he also knew she was in love with that Sam guy, but he didn't love her. It was all written over him, and the way they looked at each other. Jane looked at him with her blue eyes, always looking for those green eyes of his. However, Sam just looked at Jane as if she were another girl he knew.

Sherlock wanted to tell this to Jane. He wanted to make her open her eyes and see Sam wasn't worth it, that he didn't love her as she thought he did and that was going to break her heart.

But he didn't. Sherlock didn't say a word and he let Jane go out on her date with Sam.

Eventually, what he predicted that would happen, happened. A few days later, when Sherlock saw Jane again, she was all smiles and practically useless to assist him with his experiments. The journal both shared, in which Jane wrote about his experiments and cases was forgotten, Jane suddenly forgot everything about it and the way Sherlock liked tea, the way Sherlock used his microscope, the way Sherlock messed with her books in her room.

"You had sex with him," said Sherlock one day she was still daydreaming. Both were sitting on her living room and watching some old Doctor Who re-runs when he said it. Sherlock didn't ask, he stated.

Jane only told him not to repeat it again, and not to deduce anything about that.

Sherlock left her house that afternoon and didn't see Jane again for very long days, until one night, she called him crying, asking for his help.


	14. Every Teardrop is a Waterfall

Looking up to the ceiling of the room, Sherlock feels their hearts beating together, sharing a same rhythm and tempo. Jane's thin, fragile body is glued to his and Sherlock accepts this because he knows this makes her feel safe.

Jane needs to feel safe.

Neither of them care what people think.

Jane is sleeping, her head on Sherlock's chest. And he's careful, he knows she can't lay on her left shoulder because that causes her pain, so that's the reason why he has his left arm embracing Jane's delicate frame while his right hand is taking her left. Their fingers are entwined. Sherlock looks down at their hands and to the stains left on his tee, stains which are the traces of her tears. Sherlock knows he could have prevented this. He should have prevented this. He knew Jane was going to get hurt. He did nothing, and now Jane's broken.

He feels awful because he knows he could have prevented her pain. She's broken now and Sherlock can't fix her, that's why tonight he ran the six streets that keep them away from each other in the middle of the rain after she had called him. She was crying and she told him she needed him, she asked for his company and for a hug. For the first time since they knew each other, Jane cried and asked for a hug. And Sherlock was there to reassure his friend everything was going to be OK.

It's so calm and peaceful now, the rain had stopped. Sherlock looks up to the stars shining on her ceiling, those same stars he helped her with, those stars his father bought for her before going away to Iraq. Sherlock then he looks down at her peaceful sleepy face and caress her hair. Sherlock wants to wake her up and talk. He wants to tell Jane he will always protect her, that he's going to be by her side and no matter what, they will always be friends.

Always.

Even in the same darkness of the place, Sherlock recognises Jane's blue nails, her short, perfectly cut and blue painted nails. Blue nail varnish that matches her eyes, the walls of her room and the duvet that covers their bodies. Sherlock takes a deep breath, taking Jane's scent in. He sighs inwardly and closes his grayish eyes. She smells like tea, floral shampoo and citric soap. But he looks down again, at their entwined fingers, and her blue nails take him to a nice journey to the past. A past in which they were nothing but strangers. A past in which Sherlock ignored her existence until one morning he saw those blue nails braiding her blonde hair. Her short and pale fingers and her small and short blue painted nails. That was the first thing he saw on her and now it's the last thing he looks at every night she runs to his place because she's afraid. But tonight he had to ran to hers because she was broken.

Jane hugged him tightly and buried her face into his chest. Sherlock hugged her back and rested his chin on her head.

"What happened, Jane?"

She sobbed loudly and still hugging her friend, she managed a few words out her thin lips. "He left me. He promised me he wouldn't and he did - I don't know what to do, Sherlock!"

"Jane, Sam is stupid. You -"

"I think I'm pregnant."

Jane's words were a mere whisper and Sherlock blinked twice. He heard her perfectly, but for a second or two he wanted to pretend he didn't.

"What?"

"I haven't had my period and... I bought a pregnancy test and it's positive and I had a blood test done and I told Sam. Today I called him and his father told me Sam was back to university in the States - please Sherlock, help me!" Explained Jane, still crying uncontrollably.

Sherlock couldn't believe it. Jane couldn't be pregnant! She was seventeen! She was too young, too inexperienced! Jane didn't deserve this! She deserved to have a good man as a boyfriend, a man who would honestly love her and care for her. Not someone like Sam Sawyer, a stupid man who never loved her as Jane deserved and who only wanted her to spent some nights together and for sex.

Stupid, brainless Sam Sawyer.

Sherlock was furious. "Didn't he use a condom?"

Jane looked at the floor, embarrassed. "He did, but there were a few times -"

"Jane, you're taking Biology for your A-Levels! You have top marks, you should have known you could get pregnant!"

"I know! I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so sorry!"

"Do not apologise to me! Why you let him do this to you? And do not tell me this was your idea because it wasn't."

Jane hesitated for a moment and more tears started to flow. "I... I don't know! Sherlock please help me."

It was more a plead than a question and Sherlock kissed her forehead and hug her again. Jane cried in his arms for a while until he asked her again.

"Tell me the specifics."

Jane flushed. "It happened twice four weeks ago. I was supposed to have had my period - I... I bought a pergnancy test and it was positive and then I bought another one and it was negative so I had a blood test done yesterday. I called Sam today, but he was gone."

Sherlock knew how things worked. And he didn't want to ask more, but he knew there were high chances for Jane to be pregnant. God, she could really be pregnant!

"Does Suzanne know?"

Jane looked at the floor again as soon as Sherlock mentioned her mother's name. "I will told her if the results are positive."

The results were going to be ready the following day. There was nothing they could do, they had to wait. Sherlock promised Jane he was going to be by her side, no matter what.

Always.

As soon as Jane was feeling better, well, at least when she stopped crying she asked Sherlock to stay with her. He lay on his back and hugged her, and she rested her head on his chest and fall asleep calmly, feeling their hearts beating together. And in his arms, Jane felt safe.

The following morning Jane was the first waking up. She made her way downstairs and prepared tea. She was relieved when she realised her mum was still working and she haven't arrived home yet. When she went back to her room, carrying two cups of tea and toasts Sherlock was already awake.

"Thanks for staying. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble," said Jane as he handed his friend a cup of tea.

"Little do my parents care if I'm on my bed or not, and Mycroft is abroad. How are you feeling?"

Jane managed a tiny smile. "Better. I have to pick up the results and I was wondering if you could please -"

"I will go with you."

A few hours later both friends were at the surgery Jane worked. As she was given her blood results, she quit her job. After Sam left, she couldn't work there any more. And she didn't need the money. She had saved most of her wages and her mum could support her.

But there was the idea of a baby. What if she was pregnant? What was she going to do? How was she going to tell her mother? What would she say? Jane was still in school doing her A-Levels, soon she was going to college, then University. She wanted to become a doctor and make her parents feel proud of her. Jane felt terribly sad because she thought her father, who was fighting in Iraq, would be disappointed and upset. How could she do it? How could she let Sam manipulate her to have sex without protection? What if she was now pregnant... How would Sam react? Would he want that baby?

The thing is, Jane didn't know if he was pregnant. But she wanted the baby. During the two days waiting for the results, she thought of every possible scenario. If Sam didn't want the baby, she would. She would keep it and she would raise it and give it all the love she could. She would have to confront her mother and her father, but she would keep it. She would fight for it.

"If I'm pregnant, I'm going to keep it. My mum will kill me, but I'll keep it."

Sherlock nodded. Of course Jane was going to keep it. She liked babies and she cared. She would never have an abortion, not even if her mother told her to, and not even if her life depended on it. Jane was also responsible, she told Sherlock if she was pregnant, it wasn't the baby's fault. It was hers. Still, Sherlock was going to be by her side. He was going to help her.

Always.

She took his hand and asked for his help. He needed him more than anyone in the world. Sherlock told her he was going to be by her side. And he was going to help her. Jane hugged him tightly while sitting together on that bench at the park. She cried in his arms and the open envelope containing the results was already forgotten.

"Everything is going to be fine. I promise everything is going to be fine," said Sherlock reassuringly, trying to make Jane feel better after reading the results together.


	15. The Scientist

"Everything is going to be fine. I promise everything is going to be fine," said Sherlock reassuringly, trying to make Jane feel better after reading the results together.

They missed their classes that day, and Sherlock walked Jane to her house. One of her neighbours looked at them with curiosity, Jane was silently crying and Sherlock was still holding her hand tightly. Little did they care, they just made their way inside the house. Suzanne was still nowhere to be seen and Sherlock knew she was with Lestrade. That explained the lack of phone-calls from the D.I asking for help.

"What am I going to do?"

Sherlock sat next to her and wiped the tears off her face. He didn't really know what to say. Jane was crying her heart out, she was sad, desperate, hopeless. Sherlock really wanted to help her and make her feel better, safe. He never wanted her to cry, to feel like this. But there she was, crying, in pain. And he wanted to kill Sam Sawyer. Sherlock wanted to find him, to kill him with his own bare hands for doing this to his friend, for causing her this pain and for being who he was. For being annoying, for thinking he was far superior that anyone else.

Sherlock wanted to kill Sam Sawyer because he broke Jane's heart.

"I told you I was going to help you."

"But... you can't help me, Sherlock! I'm alone with this. My mum will kill me and I'm sure she will make me give this baby up for adoption. I don't want that!" shouted Jane, still crying. "I want this baby, it's not its fault! I want to keep it but I also want to study, to become a doctor and to be your friend."

"We will be friends."

"No, we won't. We can't be friends any more, Sherlock. You'll go to university and you'll solve crimes and I - I will be here feeding a baby and doing nothing!"

Sherlock hugged her and rubbed her back with his hand. "You want to study and you want the baby, right?"

Jane nodded.

"Then you can do it. I will help you. We will tell your mother it's mine and we will fix this."

Jane frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've thought about this, and it makes sense. If you say the baby is mine, your mother won't tell you to give it up for adoption. You'll be able to keep it and go to university."

"I don't understand Sherlock, why would I say it's yours? Are you insane?"

Sherlock shook his head "Jane, your mother considers me your well off friend. And she keeps insisting you should be my girlfriend instead of my friend, Am I wrong?" Jane shook her head. Sherlock was never wrong. "Well, if you tell her it's mine, she will certainly not tell you to give it up for adoption, because she already knows I can provide you with all the things you'll need. For you and the baby. And you'll be able to go to university."

She considered for a moment. Jane knew it was a good plan, her mother loved Sherlock and she kept insisting she should date him instead of being friends because he was a good boy and he was rich, he was a good catch. Jane knew her mother wanted the best for her, but she was not like that. She would never be with someone because of the money, but Sherlock was right. If she told her she was pregnant with Sherlock's child, her mother would be over the moon. She will obviously tell her she's too young, that she still needs to finish school and go to university, but at least Suzanne wouldn't make her give up her baby.

And it was also a bad plan. A very stupid plan, to be honest.

Also, it was unfair. It was unfair for Sherlock. He didn't need to do all of this. He didn't need to carry with a baby which wasn't his, with her, who was only his friend and nothing else. It was unfair. Even if he wanted to help, Jane knew there was going to be a day in which Sherlock would say stop and he would leave. He couldn't just say it was his baby. The plans involved him giving the baby his name because let's face it, Suzanne would make Sherlock give the baby his name, and then his parents! Jane haven't met them, but what about them? She was sure Sherlock wasn't going to tell them she was his friend and that she was pregnant with a baby whose father was a brainless and too cowardly to make himself responsible for the baby. Sherlock didn't need to lie to his parents, to his whole family because of her. Jane wasn't going to let him do that.

"It's not fair, Sherlock."

"You will be able to keep the baby and I will get my way out my house, far from the reach of my annoying parents and from Mycroft."

Jane shook her head. "You don't understand, Sherlock. This is forever. If I say this is your baby, my parents will make you to marry me, you understand? Marry me! Then they will make you give this baby your name, and you won't like that. You're my friend, and I appreciate your help, but I can't let you do this!"

"Problem?" asked Sherlock, clearly not seeing, understanding what Jane was trying to explain.

"Sherlock... you're my friend. I can't let you marry me, and - you just can't do this, it's not fair. Soon you'll find a nice woman and you'll like to move with her, marry her and have your own family or a man maybe - whatever shakes your boat and I don't want to be in the middle."

Sherlock frowned. "Girlfriends aren't my area. I don't want that, Jane, I want you." Jane looked surprised and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I mean as a friend, Jane. Never will you be in the middle. You are my friend and you say friends do things for the others -"

"But not this kind of things, Sherlock! We're talking about a baby! It's not like we're going to - to keep a bird or a gerbil together. It's a baby we're talking about and this is forever... And I still need to talk to Sam. What if he wants the baby?"

"Jane, we both know he left because you told him you might be pregnant," Jane looked down at the floor and nodded. "You know he doesn't want this baby."

"I know," replied Jane, defeated.

Sherlock told Jane to lie down and have some rest. He told her to think of the options she had and if she still believed she wanted the baby, then he was going to be by her side. He told her about his plans. If Jane agreed to his plan, he was going to say it was his baby, and not only Suzanne but his own parents will insist on them getting married before the baby is born, he was completely sure. After all, Jane's mother was a religious woman, so both were sure she was going to insist. Then they could take their exams, finish school and move to central London, live as flatmates and go to university like every one else and like they have always dreamed of.

"And who would look after the baby?" asked Jane, carefully following her friend's plans.

"We can sort that out."

"And the money? I will have a baby and we want to go to university and you say we should move -"

"That's not a problem. I have my own inheritance and I can use it as soon as I finish school and when I turn eighteen, which is going to happen soon. Everything should work."

"You should go home and think, Sherlock. This is forever - I mean, you are planning to give my baby your name and become its father for its sake and mine. Our parents will make us marry each other and... please, promise me you'll think about this. You have a life, and you have to put yourself first, before anything else."

Sherlock nodded. "We already had plans to move to London."

"But not a baby, not a marriage and not all of this mess."

Sherlock left Jane's house as soon as she fell asleep and walked his way back to his house. His plan was brilliant. He didn't have problems getting married to Jane, better doing it with her than with someone else. And then giving her baby his name, again, better if it was Jane's baby and not his own. Sherlock couldn't think how his own babies would be like if he had them. He was going to help Jane, his only and truly friend and Sherlock wasn't going to sit and see Jane alone, going through a whole pregnancy stage alone, sad, knowing the real father of her baby was somewhere far, not caring and not giving anything for her and their baby.

It was also a way to finally leave his home. He was already going to do it anyway, but this was so going to piss off his parents. How they, the powerful Holmes were going to have a grandson out of marriage? How a Holmes was going to have a child with an unknown girl, a girl who was still in school?

His parents weren't as clever as he was. Sherlock knew Mycroft would know it wasn't his baby, but someone else's. But he hardly cared.

Sherlock only wanted to help his friend.

* * *

The following day they went to class. They only saw each other in English Language and Sherlock noted Jane was sad, but there was something different about her. When he asked her, she told him she had made a decision.

And later, they were both sitting together on the couch. They were holding hands, and Jane was going to cry soon and she was nervous. In front of them was Suzanne, looking at her daughter and at Sherlock expectantly. Somehow, she had an idea of what her daughter was about to tell her.

Jane stared at the floor. Sherlock gave her hand a comforting squeeze and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, staring at her bent head.

"Mum?" Jane asked, lifting her blue, fearful eyes at her mother. "I, err… I'm pregnant."

Suzanne gasped and paled, her eyes moving between the two young people on her couch. "Jane?" Her voice was incredulous, despite the fact she had anticipated it a little, if the grave looks on the friends' faces were anything to go by.

Jane nodded and looked at Sherlock to gather more courage. "Yes." She swallowed and added, "it's Sherlock's."


	16. A Message

They were both sitting together on the couch. They were holding hands, and Jane was going to cry soon and she was nervous. In front of them was Suzanne, looking at her daughter and at Sherlock expectantly. Somehow, she had an idea of what her daughter was about to tell her.

Jane stared at the floor. Sherlock gave her hand a comforting squeeze and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, staring at her bent head.

"Mum?" Jane asked, lifting her blue, fearful eyes at her mother. "I, err. I'm pregnant." Suzanne gasped and paled, her eyes moving between the two young people on her couch. "Jane?" Her voice was incredulous, despite the fact she had anticipated it a little, if the grave looks on the friends' faces were anything to go by.

Jane nodded and looked at Sherlock to gather more courage. "Yes." She swallowed and added, "it's Sherlock's."

Suzanne looked at both, at her daughter who was a young woman, a girl, and at Sherlock, who she always thought was her daughter's friend, also a boy - well, a young man now. Suzanne had so many plans for Jane. Suzanne wanted Jane to go to university and do all the things she couldn't. She wanted Jane to become a free woman, to be free in this world and to be whoever she wanted to be, just like she did with Harry. Suzanne accepted her homosexuality because she knew Harry loved women, and if she was happy loving women, then Suzanne was happy too. Suzanne always told herself she was going to accept whatever Jane wanted for her life because she loved her daughter as well. Suzanne was willing to give her life for her daughters. And now she didn't know what to do.

Then, looking at Sherlock, at her hand caressing Jane's, at their entwined fingers, at his position close to her, at his reassuring eyes every time Jane looked at him. Sherlock was a Godsend. Suzanne couldn't explain Greg how happy she was when Jane told her she was going to the prom party, and how handsome her date was.

Every time she asked, Jane told her Sherlock was her friend.

Every time Suzanne insisted, Jane told her they were and they will always be friends.

This... This didn't have a possible explanation. She had taught Jane, She had told her everything she knew, she even gave Jane condoms! She thought this was not going to happen to her. Suzanne was confident.  _Jane will never go through this_ , Suzanne thought every time she saw a pregnant teenager at the clinic she worked as a nurse. Suzanne was alone. His ex husband was in Iraq. She didn't know what to do.

"How long?"

Jane looked at Sherlock and then at her mother. "Um... I don't know. I - I need to see a doctor to know for sure."

Suzanne nodded and then looked at Sherlock, and then she looked back at her daughter. "Have you considered all the options?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to keep it?"

Jane didn't hesitate. "Yes."

The ex Mrs Watson sighed, defeated and swallowed the tears which were threatening to go out in plain sight. She nodded. Of course Jane was going to keep it. Jane liked babies, Jane was a very responsible girl.

Suzanne was proud of her.

"Do you have anything to say, Sherlock?" asked Suzanne, looking at him straight in the eye.

Sherlock knew Suzanne was not happy knowing her seventeen-year-old daughter was pregnant, knowing she was going to become a grandmother at a very ridiculous age and even more, they were still in school. But something on Jane's mother told Sherlock she wasn't angry with her, with him, with them. Suzanne was angry with the situation. But definitely not with them.

"I'm going to give it my name, of course. And I'm willing to pay for everything Jane and the baby might need."

Jane continued staring at the floor. Suzanne nodded at Sherlock's words.

They knew what was about to come.

"I can't believe this baby has been conceived out of marriage," said Suzanne, calmly. "but I must admit things have changed these days. Sherlock, do you understand what this situation calls for? I don't want my grandchild to grow living in two different houses, with separate parents. I hope you understand what I'm trying to say. That baby needs to grow up with their parents  _together,_ " Suzanne made an special emphasis while pronouncing the word  _together_.

Of course Sherlock knew what the situation was calling for. So did Jane. They both knew Suzanne was going to say this.

"I do understand."

"If you two loved each other enough to... to conceive this baby - and I suppose you loved each other - then you two love each other enough to take the next step," said Suzanne, reasonably. Both Jane and Sherlock nodded. Little tears started to flow out Jane's blue eyes and Sherlock tightened his grip on her hand. "I'm no one to tell you you should get married. But I'll be more calm if you, Sherlock, and you too, Jane, face the responsibilities of your actions."

"Mum -"

Sherlock cut Jane off. "I will certainly meet my responsibilities."

"Good. Have you talked to your parents?"

"Not yet. We wanted to talk to you first."

Suzanne told Sherlock she wanted to meet them. He agreed and both Jane and Sherlock promised to arrange a day in which they and their parents could met and talk about this.

"Why you never told me you were together? Every time I asked you told me you were friends."

Jane shrugged. She couldn't met her mother's eyes. "I don't know."

Suzanne stood up from her place and looked at them, addressing her words to both. "There are still things we have to discuss," but then she looked at Sherlock only. "At least I'm happy it's you and not any other boy." Then she excused herself, saying she had to work early the following morning and that she couldn't stay for dinner. Before leaving the room, she gave Jane a gently, warm squeeze on her good shoulder and left with a defeated, sad smile.

It was over.

For now.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. You are not supposed to go through this. I should go after her and tell her the truth before this gets worse," said Jane as she wiped the tears off her face.

"Nonsense. I am going to help you."

Jane caressed Sherlock's cheek. "Why are you so good to me? What did I do to deserve such a good friend like you?"

Jane hugged Sherlock tightly. She cried once again in his arms and he let her bury her face into his chest. This wasn't easy, Sherlock admitted. It was not going to get easier, not any time soon. But at least he was going to be by Jane's side and he was going to help her. That's the last thing he could do. She was his only friend.

* * *

It was late when Jane gathered some courage and went to her room upstairs. She was afraid, she couldn't met her mother's eyes and she didn't want to face her. Something told Jane her mother was sad and upset. Of course she was. Jane remembered the talks with her mother about women, men and sex. She always told her to use protection, to take care of herself and her body, not to let any man harm her or do things she didn't want him to.

Jane felt she failed her mother. And she still had to talk to her father.

She finished cleaning her room when she heard a knock on her door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes."

Suzanne smiled at her daughter and sat next to her on the bed. She placed an arm around Jane's thin shoulders and sighed. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know."

"Have you had anything for dinner?"

Jane nodded. "There was some takeaway on the fridge."

"We need to go to the doctor's to check on you and the baby. Then to your school to see how are you going to manage your exams,"

"I know. Sherlock said he will take care of that. I think his father knows the headmaster."

There was an awkward and long silence in which mother and daughter didn't know what to say. Jane was scared, sad, she wanted to tell her mother everything was a lie, that Sherlock wasn't the father of her baby, that the real father was Sam Sawyer, a stupid man who ran away because he didn't want her, because he never loved her and because he didn't want the baby inside her.

Suzanne was broken. She never expected to get home and find her daughter and, who she supposed was his friend, together, asking her a moment because they had something to tell her and it was important.

"Jane, I know you don't like me asking you these questions but, do you love Sherlock?" asked Suzanne, somehow afraid of asking her daughter.

Jane hesitated for a moment. She loved him as a friend. She loved Sherlock so much she was willing to go to the end of the planet with him. He was his only friend, the one who helped her and the one who told her she was worth it. He was the first boy who talked to her without the intention of bullying her because of her limp. Sherlock encouraged her to stop walking as she didn't have a limp and to use her stick, to walk looking at people in the eye and not to the floor.

Sherlock gave Jane the hope no one did.

And mostly important, Sherlock was taking the huge responsibility of saying her baby was his and giving it his name. Sherlock was going to do all of that only so she could keep that baby.

But she didn't love Sherlock as her mother thought so.

"I love him. With all my heart."

"Does he love you?"

Jane nodded.

"Did he say so?" asked Suzanne, concerned.

Jane closed his eyes. Sherlock never told her if he loved her. "Yes."

"Why you never told me you were together?"

"I thought... I thought you wouldn't like him."

"You always had my approval, Jane. When I met him I knew he was the perfect boy for you. But I never thought this will happen."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What happened, Jane? I told you, my dear. I warned you and I explained you how things worked. Have Sherlock forced you?"

"NO! Of course no!"

"Are you sure?"

Jane nodded eagerly, wanting this conversation to be over. "Yes!"

"Jane, I need you to tell me the truth. He never persuaded you to have sex with him even when you didn't want to?"

Jane rolled her eyes. It was too weird, too awkward and too embarrassing to think in her friend in that way. "No mum, I swear it's the truth. He never forced me."

"I believe you. But why you didn't you use protection, Jane? Or was it an accident?" asked Suzanne, tiredly, still concerned.

Jane shrugged. "It was - I don't know."

After a few seconds of silence, Suzanne caressed Jane's hair and smiled. "I think this is not the most suitable situation to have a baby while you're still in school. You're too young and you still have a lot of things to do, so does Sherlock. But I'm happy it's him and it also makes me happy he's going to respond for the baby and for you. Jane, you're very lucky, there are lots of girls who have to confront this alone, at least you have a good boyfriend beside you."

"I know," said Jane.

"Well, I'll let you sleep. You need to sleep lots, now you have a baby inside you and he needs you to be healthy. OK?"

"Yes, mum. Thanks for - for not killing me."

Suzanne smiled. "Good night, sweetie."

"Good night, mum."

For the first time in her life, Jane couldn't sleep. Her mother's words were burning her.  _"There are lots of girls who have to confront this alone, at least you have a good boyfriend beside you."_  If only she knew she was one of those girls. She didn't have a good boyfriend beside her. She had a good friend who was helping her because the father of her baby was too cowardly to do it, to face this mess.

* * *

The following morning Jane visited a doctor. Next to her was Suzanne and Sherlock. Despite Jane's insistence, Suzanne phoned Sherlock and told him he needed to be there as well. And there they were, the three of them talking to a doctor and trying to work out how far into pregnancy Jane was.

"The last day you had sex without protection?"

Jane flushed and looked at Sherlock. "Err, four weeks ago."

"Four weeks ago," confirmed Sherlock and the doctor took down his own notes.

It was extremely awkward to talk about the last time they had sex (well, they never had, but they had to lie), the days of her period, and it got worse when the doctor asked her if she felt anything different regarding her body, such as pains or if she felt her breast different. After the doctor asked her for her period and after he looked at her blood test results, Jane was scheduling the following appointments with her doctor and the day for her first ultrasound.

"We're going to meet your baby! Aren't you excited, Sherlock?" asked Suzanne, excitedly.

"You didn't need to come, Sherlock,"

"No, it's - fine," admitted Sherlock, slightly uncomfortable by Jane's mother's excitement.

"What are you talking about, Jane? Of course he needed to come!"

The doctor told her to be careful, not to force herself, to stay at home and avoid long walks, running and other activities. She was given a prescription for vitamins and a special diet.

That same day, Sherlock told his parents they were to meet Jane Watson and her mother Suzanne. When they asked who they were, Sherlock didn't hesitate for a moment. "Jane is my girlfriend and she's pregnant."


	17. Daylight

"Jane is my girlfriend and she's pregnant."

Mummy dropped the cup she was holding and the tea not only left stains on her delicate dress but also on the posh and expensive carpet under their feet. Mr Holmes looked at his son for the first time since he had told them he needed to talk to them. Sherlock was able to deduce them. Mummy and his father were surprised, they expected drugs or maybe any other thing, but certainly they did not expected their youngest son coming with  _these_  news.

"What?" Richard Holmes was the first asking.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "You heard me. Tomorrow Jane Watson and her mother Suzanne will come to talk to you."

"She is pregnant?" asked Mummy Holmes.

"Yes."

Mr and Mrs Holmes looked into their eyes and then to their young son, who was nothing more than a seventeen year old boy, a young man now, who had a strange taste for classical music as for experiments involving chemicals and dead rats. For them it was yesterday when Sherlock started school, when he was ten years and was given a microscope for Christmas.

They expected drugs, maybe something wrong with school, but certainly not a  _baby_.

"Is she that little girl Mycroft told us about?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his father. Of course Mycroft had told them about her.

He nodded.

"Do her parents know?" asked Elizabeth Holmes.

"Her mother knows.  _We_  already talked to her."

"And I assume this girlfriend of yours is going to keep it, otherwise you wouldn't be telling us about it."

Sherlock nodded at his father. Another quite expected comment. "Should you talk to Mr Kensington so we can take our exams before it - before the  _baby_  comes," said the young man, correcting himself while referring to Jane's baby.

Richard nodded and Elizabeth remained her position on their chairs. The broken cup was already forgotten on the floor. Two pair of eyes were on the young Sherlock Holmes.

"Sherlock, you ought to marry that girl."

Sherlock nodded, looking at the floor. "I already agreed to meet my responsibilities. That's why I'm asking you to talk to the headmaster so we can graduate soon."

For the first time in years, Sherlock sat down with his parents and shared tea with them. Eventually, millions of questions were asked and all of them were answered. It wasn't a big deal replying all their questions; who was Jane, what did her mother do for a living, where was her father, if she had good grades, what they were going to do. It seemed easy and pointless until his father asked why they didn't use protection. Sherlock was clever and his parents knew it. Sexual intercourse without protection usually leads to pregnancy.

Sherlock replied it was  _his_  business and not theirs.

For the first time in years, his parents told him they were going to support him and his girlfriend, because obviously, no grandchild of them was going to be forgotten.

And for the first time in years, Sherlock was told they were proud of him, for assuming his responsibilities.

And that was something.

* * *

A week later Jane and Suzanne met Elizabeth and Richard Holmes. Jane noted they were older than her mother and they seemed to be good people. Sherlock always told her they liked to keep the dirt under the carpet, and that they never approved of him. Before going to the Holmes', Jane was insecure. She placed a hand on her still flat stomach and prayed so Sherlock's parents wouldn't hate her. They were wealthy people and Jane didn't want them to get the wrong impression. She didn't want them to think she was a girl who 'casually' got pregnant of their youngest son for the money.

However, Jane's fears disappeared as soon as she met Elizabeth and Richard Holmes.

They loved her.

Elizabeth sat next to her and told her she was more beautiful than she initially thought she would be, and that she was happy Sherlock found a nice girl like her. She also commented on how cute her grandchild was going to be with such lovely and pretty parents. Jane flushed, and Sherlock only ignored the comments. However, little did Elizabeth Holmes talk during the afternoon in which it was going to be decided what was going to be of them, of Jane and her baby and Sherlock, who was actually the young man who was going to help his friend, and not the biological father.

"Sherlock talked to us about this, and he has told us he will meet his responsibilities. We don't want the baby to grow in a divided family. That baby has to grow in a good environment, with both parents together," said Richard and he sipped more tea.

Suzanne nodded and told him she already knew Sherlock and Jane were going to take the next step before the baby was born. Richard assured he had pull some strings and Sherlock and Jane were to graduate within months. Soon Jane learned that being a Holmes, or at least going to be one of them guaranteed her a lot of things. And one of them were graduating before anyone else and with a lot of facilities.

"Have you decided where are you going to live?" asked Elizabeth and soon all the adult's eyes were on them, on Jane and Sherlock.

Sherlock was the first person to talk about it. "As soon as we have graduated we're moving to central London."

Jane nodded.

"Are you going to continue your studies? Sherlock has told me you want to become a doctor, Jane."

"Yes... I - I want to go to Medical school, but I'm not so sure about it now."

Elizabeth took her hand. "No worries, dear. I'll make myself sure someone looks after the baby so you and Sherlock go to university."

"Elizabeth, we can't let you pay for all those things,"

Richard assured Suzanne and Jane it was nothing. That they didn't need to worry because they were going to do anything for their grandchild, and for Jane and for Sherlock.

Jane felt completely guilty. She felt such a liar, not being able to tell her mother the baby she was carrying wasn't Sherlock's but Sam's. That that baby was the product of a mistake she did with Sam Sawyer. Jane wanted to tell them her baby wasn't the product of the love she had for Sherlock, as everyone believed. It wasn't fair. Her mistake, her lie and her hand glued to Sherlock's wasn't fair, it wasn't acceptable. Her mother and Sherlock's parents had hopes for that baby, they believed that baby was a Holmes and it wasn't. Everyone took for granted Jane and Sherlock loved each other and they didn't. Everyone wanted them to get married and to move together and start a family and they didn't want that. Jane wanted to move with Sherlock, she wanted to go to university and solve crimes with her friend, but the baby, the marriage, and this big lie wasn't in the plan.

And Sherlock. Jane knew he wanted to help her, he told her he was going to help her. But it wasn't fair for him. He didn't need to hold her hand and fake happiness for a child which wasn't his. Jane suffered, she didn't want Sherlock to do things he never wanted to do. When they were at the clinic, while talking to her doctor, Jane saw it on his eyes, Sherlock might have been happy for her, but he didn't want that. He didn't want to caress her stomach or to hold her hand as he was expected to, as this situation required him to do so.

This wasn't fair for anyone. And it was her fault.

Before she could think of something else, Jane fainted.

* * *

 

"Where am I?"

Jane was lying down on a big bed. She was in Sherlock's room and next to her was her mother.

"You fainted. It's one of the symptoms, you see. How are you feeling, dear?" asked Suzanne. Her voice was soft and caring.

The young woman frowned. "Fine. My head hurts."

"It's all right, dear, it happens. It's a bit late, I'm going back home. Elizabeth insisted you should stay, at least tonight. I agree with her. Besides, you and Sherlock might want to be alone -

"Mum!"

"Alone to discuss things, Jane," finished Suzanne.

Jane nodded, flushed.

A maid appeared carrying a glass of water and soon Suzanne left, not without telling Jane to call her if something happened.

"I apologise in advance for what you are about to suffer tomorrow morning. But my mother shall bother you with endless questions about your health and when the wedding should take place," said Sherlock as he leaned on the doorway.

"I have to stop this. I need to tell them the truth."

Sherlock closed the door, making himself sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation. "Problem?"

"Yes, I can't lie to them, Sherlock. This is getting out my hands - I can't do this any more."

He frowned. "It really bothers you."

"Of course it bothers me! I - I can't let you do this, Sherlock. It's... too much! Have you realised what are you getting into? They wants us to get married within days. This is not what I wanted for us, we are friends and - you don't want this."

Sherlock picked up his violin from his desk and started examining the strings. "I thought I was helping you."

Jane nodded. "You are. But I can't let you do this. You have to understand, Sherlock. You have your own life, and you can't say this baby is yours and you can't just tie your life to mine. You don't want this now and I know you won't stand it."

"How do you know I don't want this?"

Jane ignored Sherlock's words. Maybe she shouldn't have.

"Because I know you! I saw your face when we were talking to the doctor," Little tears started to fall down Jane's blue eyes. "I won't let you ruin your life."

Sherlock sat next to Jane. "I don't have friends, Jane. I've just got one."

Sherlock made Jane understand he was not going to leave her alone. He was going to be by her side, just like the night he ran to her place and hugged her tightly. He also explained her he didn't mind marrying her, then moving with her and her baby and giving her baby his name. After all, it was a good way to finally leave his parent's house, to find a good excuse to be given more of his inheritance and to finally be accepted by his parents. Still Jane thought it was unfair, because she continued believing there was going to be a day in which Sherlock would found the love of his life and he would like to date someone and marry that someone.

Their plan was simple, they were getting married and Sherlock was going to give her baby his name. They were going to move together to central London and live as flatmates. Just like they always wanted, but this time a little one was included in the plans. Then after the baby was born they would find a way, someone, to look after it so they could go to university and solve crimes together.

Even when it was more like a fantasy, a childlike plan, Jane and Sherlock trusted it was going to work.

"Now the maids will definitely talk," said Sherlock as he climbed on his bed, and lay next to Jane.

She laughed, for the first time in days, Jane laughed.

"And since when the greatest Sherlock Holmes cares for what the maids think about him?"

"Shut up. I was taking the guests room but Mummy insisted I should sleep next to my soon-to-be-wife," said Sherlock, mimicking his mother's tone of voice.

Jane giggled. Sherlock turned off the lights and they talked about their classes, their exams and how good it was to graduate before everyone else when Jane rested her head on Sherlock's chest. They fell into a long silence, when Sherlock took her hand and kissed her forehead.

"Isn't this the weirdest thing we have done since we met?" asked Jane with a smile.

"I considered scaring your neighbours with the fake moans was at the top of the list."

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm."

"I promise I'll be a good wife. I will wash your socks and I'll cook you nice food."

Sherlock chuckled. "Please, don't be boring."

Jane laughed, and soon she fell asleep.

Sherlock's phone went off and he quickly took it in his hands. It was Mycroft.

**_Congratulations are in order. MH_ **

Sherlock ignored it, even being away, Mycroft already knew about it and Sherlock was trying to deduce if their parents talked to him of if his older brother had had the entire house bugged.

**_Four weeks pregnant I presume? Think dear brother, pregnancy is not entirely safe until after the third month. MH_ **

**_Was that a threat? SH  
_ **

**_Not at all. But you shall consider it. MH  
_ **

Sherlock decided not to reply when Mycroft texted him once again. ** _  
_**

_**Good night, dear brother. Send your soon-to-be-wife my regards. MH** _


	18. Careful Where You Stand

A few days after Elizabeth and Richard Holmes met Jane Watson and her mother Suzanne and after several tea times and countless cups of tea, all the adults agreed Sherlock and Jane were to get married before the baby was born.

For some reason Suzanne didn't want Jane to be heavily pregnant for the wedding. Everyone knew it as for the sake of appearances. Jane's family was religious, and having a child out of marriage wasn't something everyone would approve of. And Suzanne cared for appearances. She was not ashamed of her daughter, though. But still, everyone knew she insisted so much on hurrying the wedding because of religion. The Holmes also had a reason for his son and for Jane to get married soon. Both Elizabeth and Richard Holmes didn't want one of them, their future grandchild, to be born out of marriage because it never happened, it has never been conceived of in their family. The Holmes' were prestigious enough, they were well recognised, and they had an image to maintain.

For those reasons Elizabeth and Richard Holmes, as well as Suzanne, agreed they didn't want anything more than a very, very discreet and modest wedding at the register office and then at the local church, following Jane's family traditions. Sherlock and Jane were quite happy with that decision. They did talk with their parents and they did let them know what they wanted. Jane and Sherlock didn't want a big wedding. Jane didn't want a big dress and Sherlock didn't want a party. It was going to be small, intimate with their parents and no one else.

However, when everyone wanted to hurry the wedding for the sake of appearances, they all had to wait a couple of weeks because Mr Watson, Jane's father, was coming back to England for a few days to complete paper work and she insisted her father ought to be present. She wanted John Watson to walk her down the aisle. Being into a big mess of lies and a baby included as well, the only thing Jane wanted to allow herself was to have her father present.

Jane didn't tell his father about her pregnancy via Skype, even when she preferred to do it via Internet before having to do it face to face. She knew it was for the best to wait and tell him once he was in the country. So they waited until John H. Watson, Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers was back in England to tell him the news and for the wedding.

Mr Watson arrived a Monday. Jane waited for him at the airport and as soon as she saw his daddy, she ran to her arms and cried until she felt she didn't have more tears left.

"My little girl! Look at you, you're all a woman now!" said Mr Watson as he stepped back to take a look at his daughter. Next to Jane was Harry, who somehow managed to go back home when Suzanne told her her father was coming back for a few days. And somehow she also managed to keep her mouth shut and not say anything about her little sister's pregnancy.

Obviously Suzanne let him stay at her house and they had a pleasant dinner all together. Mr Watson told them stories about the people in Iraq and some of his adventures. Most of them didn't involve dying men, he kept those to himself. Harry told her father about university, about how good to live with her mates and about the weather in Leeds.

John Watson and Suzanne had a pleasant conversation. Jane felt happy when her mother told John about Greg. Mr Watson told her he was happy for her and that he wanted to meet him. Many years ago John and Suzanne divorced, but it was a friendly separation, there was no tears, no shouts, anything. Both Suzanne and John Watson agreed their marriage was over and that they should divorce. Even when it broke Jane's heart, she was happy they still remained close. And now seeing them talking so friendly, her father saying how happy he was for Suzanne and Greg, that made Jane feel better. Nevertheless, when it was Jane's turn to talk about her, about school and about all the things she couldn't say to her father while he was away, she discovered how parents know when their children have something to tell them. She wanted to cry when she told her father she was pregnant, she was her father's little girl. Harry had a bad temper and terrible mood swings and her father loved them both, but Jane has always been her little girl. To Jane, her father was the man she loved with all her heart. She didn't want to disappoint him, but she had to say it.

Both father and daughter were upstairs, in Jane's room. Mr Watson was looking at the shiny stars glued to his daughter's room ceiling and he asked when she had her room painted when Jane told him the news.

"Dad, I... I'm pregnant. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mr John Watson didn't know what to say. He was expecting to go back home and maybe meet that boy who was standing next to his little girl's in that picture she had sent him when she went to the prom party. He wasn't expecting this news and his daughter telling him he was going to be a granddad soon.

Jane's father hugged her tightly and told her she shouldn't been crying because her baby wanted her to be happy.

That broke Jane's heart.

Jane told her dad about school, how she was going to pass her exams and about the Holmes' family. John asked about Sherlock and he told his daughter he wanted to meet him. Jane assured him Sherlock was a good boy, that he was going to respond for her and for their baby and that they were going to get married. Mr Watson told Jane he was proud of her for keeping the baby and that he couldn't wait to meet Sherlock.

And it eventually happened.

The following day Captain John Watson met Sherlock Holmes and his parents as well. Jane told Sherlock to calm down because her father wasn't going to beat him to a bloody pulp. Sherlock said he was fine.

Even when he denied it, Sherlock was a bit nervous.

John liked Sherlock and far from telling him the famous speech  _"if you ever hurt my daughter I'll make myself sure no one ever finds your bones"_ , Mr Watson patted Sherlock's shoulder and told him he knew he was going to take good care of his daughter and his grandchild.

Both still teenagers but soon adults continued going to school, they continued studying when a few days after Mr Watson arrived in the country, both Jane Watson and Sherlock Holmes were getting married in very modest and discreet ceremonies; a civil one and a religious ceremony following Jane's family's religion. The only ones who knew about it were their families and no one else. Both Jane and Sherlock didn't have friends, and when Jane suggested inviting Molly over, Sherlock rejected the idea. He didn't want to make things worse and according to him, Molly would only spread the news all over their school. And they wanted it to be secret, until they moved away from there.

"Getting married to a woman whose baby isn't yours? My God, since when have you become the knight in the shining armour?"

Sherlock tried to ignore his brother's words. He was getting ready to go to the register office when Mycroft appeared in his room and glanced at the new sheets and duvets their parents had got for the newly married couple and at the new clothes on the room which were Jane's. After so many afternoons and several cups of tea, both Elizabeth and Richard insisted upon Jane moving in with them and her future husband, Sherlock. Jane said she was going to be fine living with her mother, and looking for Suzanne's support, Jane realised her mother and her father as well had actually agreed with the Holmes' wishes. Defeated by the decisions made by the adults, Jane's belongings arrived at the Holmes' the day before the wedding and soon her clothes migrated to Sherlock' dressing room and her books also occupied a place in Sherlock's bookshelves, as her clarinet and a few other things.

"Do enlighten me, please. How can a man impregnate a woman by kissing her forehead, holding her hand and sleeping next to her but not  _with_  her?"

Sherlock twisted his mouth. "Still playing the CIA and the secret service, Mycroft?"

Mycroft curled his lips. "You might have convinced our parents, but you can't convince me. You haven't even kissed the girl. Why are you protecting her promiscuity?"

Sherlock turned. "Don't you dare to say anything like  _that_  again. You have no right."

"Ha-ha. May I ask, why you keep telling her you are doing this because you want to help her when we both know that's not the real reason?"

"Shut up."

"Still the shy child who cannot speak up?"

"You're only invited because of our parents. But as soon as this finishes, you ought to leave. Go back to your own house and leave  _us_  alone."

Mycroft smiled, showing his perfect teeth. "There is something I don't quite understand. Miss Watson is eight weeks pregnant."

"Pointing out the obvious, Mycroft?"

"We both know a pregnancy is never safe until after the third month."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "Pointing out the obvious, again?"

"Why marrying her now?"

"This matter does not concern you."

"She doesn't love you."

Sherlock didn't say a word and continued fixing his tie.

With no more comments on the tip of his tongue, Mycroft left his brother's room not before telling him his Windsor knot was not as tight on his neck as it should be.

* * *

The Holmes family were the first one arriving at the register office, a few minutes later followed by the Watson'.

"Lestrade couldn't make it," said Jane as she approached Sherlock, who was sitting outside the office while his parents and Mycroft were inside the office. "But look at you. You look very handsome, Sherlock."

Jane started fixing Sherlock's tie and the clever young man smiled only to his friend. "You look beautiful, Jane."

Jane was wearing a very modest whitish dress. It was long, loose, it had long sleeves, perfect to cover her scarred shoulder. Her blonde hair was loose and she had a small bouquet made of three white roses in her hands. On the other hand, Sherlock was wearing a dark jacket, narrow leg trousers, a white, tight shirt and a dark tie.

"Thank you. I wanted to wear -"

"A blue dress," Sherlock completed the sentence and she smiled.

"You know me so well."

He smiled. "Of course, you are going to be my wife. I ought to know you."

Jane smiled sadly at the word  _wife_  and both were hurried into the office where they were going to get married.

Jane and Sherlock's parents were the witnesses at the civil ceremony. It was a very quick ceremony and Jane Watson became Mrs Jane Watson-Holmes after both signed off the papers and posed for their parent's cameras. Jane whispered a thanks into Sherlock's ear and he only caressed her hand in return.

Immediately after the civil ceremony, they got married in a church, following Jane's and her family's religion. Captain John Watson walked his daughter down the aisle wearing his uniform of the British Army. Jane looked at his father's eyes the whole way until she was standing in front of Sherlock and until it was time for her father to give her away. Captain Watson kissed his daughter cheek and made Sherlock promise he was going to take care of her.

Sherlock promised he was going to look after her and that he was going to protect her.

_Always._

Sherlock had Jane's hands in his when the priest started pronouncing the words both friends knew would always be engraved on their minds.

"Jane Watson, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

Jane looked into Sherlock's eyes. Her blue eyes were full of tears as she nodded. "Yes, I will."

The priest turned to face Sherlock. "And you, Sherlock Holmes, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

Sherlock nodded, still looking at Jane and the little tears falling down her eyes. "Yes, I will."

Neither of them hesitated. Neither of them spoke when the priest asked if anyone had a reason as why they should not be married. Jane's hands were shaking, but Sherlock's grip was tight and somehow reassuring while the old priest blessed the rings placed in front of them.

Both Jane and Sherlock exchanged their rings, which was, as many other things about their wedding, against their parent's wishes. While Elizabeth and Richard Holmes insisted on getting them strong, posh wedding rings, Jane and Sherlock agreed they wanted a pair of very modest, thin and gold rings.

Jane cried even more when Sherlock put her on the gold ring. Both families considered she was excited, happy. Both friends knew they were just playing a role.

When the priest told Sherlock he could kiss his wife, Jane smiled at him, sadly, and he kissed her cheek, just as he did in the civil ceremony. They walked outside the church, got inside a car and went back to the Holmes' house where a family meal had been arranged as little something to celebrate their marriage.

When they were asked why they didn't kiss, both Jane and Sherlock said they weren't going to kiss in front of their parents.

Mycroft only twisted his mouth at the comment.

_It worked._

The dinner at the Holmes' was very pleasant. Jane was happy, her parents and Sherlock's built a nice relationship. Richard Holmes was extremely excited about the fact Jane's father was a Captain of the British Army and they talked lots about politics and so on. The same happened with Suzanne and Elizabeth Holmes, both women shared a passion for knitting and they spent the whole time planning what kind of things they were going to knit to their future grandchild. On the other hand, Mycroft and Harry only exchanged a few words. Harry seemed more interested in Clara, one of the Holmes' maids.

After the dinner, the two families shared a nice time drinking tea. Despite their mother's insistence, Jane and Sherlock didn't have a dance, they didn't do the things couples do in their wedding parties. They only sat next to each other and ate all the food it was placed in front of them and nothing else.

"It is such a pity you can't go on holiday. A nice trip to France would have been lovely," said Elizabeth as she sipped more of her tea.

Jane smiled shyly. "The symptoms got worse lately, I couldn't have afforded a trip abroad."

Jane was now eight - almost nine weeks pregnant and she had a very, but a very small pregnant bump and she was the only one who was able to notice it. When asked, Jane didn't lie, the symptoms have got a bit worse since they all started working on the wedding. She has been clearly nervous and a honeymoon abroad was going to be the death of her. Also, both friends didn't feel like going on a honeymoon. A wedding and a fake marriage was enough for them, thank-you-very-much.

During their small family thing Jane and Sherlock held each other's hands. Both smiled for the family pictures. Both acted perfectly well.

_It worked._

A bit afterwards, Captain Watson, Suzanne and Harry left not before hugging Jane and telling her how happy they were for her. They also hugged Sherlock, well, Harry only shook his hand and told him if he ever broke her little sister's heart she was going to kill him.

"Should you forgive us, Jane. But Richard has business to attend early in the morning, so do I," said Mrs Holmes as she stood up from her place, ready to leave the living room where her son and her daughter-in-law were sitting together.

Jane, who was practically falling asleep on Sherlock's shoulder, nodded. She felt her eyelids heavy as she tried to stay awake. "Don't worry. Thank you for everything, Mrs Holmes."

"Please Jane, call me Elizabeth - or Mummy. You're my son's wife!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Jane giggled. "All right, Elizabeth. Hope you have a good night."

"And you as well. The maids have already placed all your belongings in Sherlock's room. If you need anything please don't hesitate asking my son," said Elizabeth.

"I will. Good night."

Sherlock and Jane were alone in the living room. The silence was only broken by the maids cleaning and doing their job. Jane looked at the gold ring on her ring finger and sighed tiredly.

"Sher... would you carry me to bed?"

Jane just thought Sherlock would laugh or just ignore her, but in seconds he was already on his feet and with a quick movement, he took her in his arms.

"Put me down!"

"Do I look like someone who cannot understand the English language?"

Jane giggled. "I was joking, Sherlock."

Now Sherlock ignored her and carried her to their room. Jane knew it was pointless asking Sherlock to put her down. She relaxed for a moment and rested her head on her friend - now his husband's chest an closed her eyes.

"Have I successfully accomplished what is called 'carrying your wife in a bridal style'?" asked Sherlock as he delicately placed Jane on their bed.

She nodded. "Perfectly done, Mr Holmes."

"Do I have to put you into your pyjamas?"

Jane giggled. "Hmm, I'm so tired and it sounds like a good plan, but I can manage, thanks."

Sherlock nodded and went to his dressing room, leaving Jane alone so she could change her clothes. He put on a old grizzly tee and a pair of blue pyjama bottoms.

In the room, Jane was shaking her head annoyed at the bag her mother left to her. It had all clothes she never wore before, such as lacy underwear and a dark blue nightgown. She didn't have a choice, she had left her old pyjamas at her house. At least she was happy the nightgown was blue and not an ugly red one.

Jane was brushing her hair when Sherlock came in again. "Do you think I can bring my dressing table and put it somewhere in this room?

Sherlock nodded as he climbed on the bed.

"I've forgotten how big your room was. Pity you have to share it with your insufferable friend and her baby."

Sherlock chuckled. "Indeed. At least I hope you do not snore  _tonight_."

"Hey! I don't snore. You snore!"

"No, I don't! You do snore."

"No, you snore!"

Jane laughed and hugged Sherlock, resting her head on his chest. It was something they always did when they were alone. And it was something Sherlock only allowed Jane to do. She would hug him and she would press her head to his chest close to his heart. It was something that always made Jane feel safe.

And Sherlock knew it.

She took his hand and Sherlock took the clue. Both entwined their fingers. Sherlock's right thumb caressed Jane's knuckles and then the gold ring on her left hand.

"Sherlock, can I ask you something?"

"Hmm."

"Promise me you won't hate me."

"Never will I hate you, Jane."

They feel into a very long silence in which Sherlock thought Jane was already sleeping when he felt her crying.

"Jane."

She sobbed. "I'm fine - I'm fine."

Sherlock turned on his lamp and looked at his friend - now his wife. Jane's eyes were full of tears, and she didn't want him to meet her eyes. "Jane, what's wrong?"

Jane seemed to hesitate her words for a moment and Sherlock started to worry.

"Are you in pain? Is it the baby? Should I call a doctor?"

"No, Sherlock.  _We_ 're fine, it's just... I just - I just wish you were the father of my baby."

Jane's words were a mere whisper and for seconds, which to both felt like an eternity, Jane didn't realise what she said until she hugged her friend. She buried her face into Sherlock's chest.

"It's all right, everything is going to be all right, Jane."

Sherlock thought about the moments of their wedding, Mr Watson walking Jane down the aisle. He even remembered himself promising he would always look after Jane.

The young man looked down at their entwined fingers, at the gold ring on Jane's left hand.

They were married now.

Still lying next to him and without any previous warning, if it was ever needed, Jane moved her body until she was over Sherlock's. She pressed both palms on each side of Sherlock's head and the entire world stopped for a moment, only for them, and Jane lowered her head until she was inches away from Sherlock's face, close to his mouth, to his ridiculously pink lips. The entire room was dark, but the lights coming from outside the windows and from the lamp next to Sherlock was the only thing illuminating both figures on one same bed. Jane placed both legs on each side of Sherlock' tights.

Everyone could have seen Sherlock's dilated eyes. Everyone could have noticed he stopped breathing for a moment when his friend - now his wife, Jane, was practically over him and very, but very close to his lips. Sherlock moved his hands and placed them shamelessly on Jane's back, on the space between her waist and her shoulder blades.

Their bodies weren't touching,  _yet_. Sherlock could feel Jane's soft breathing on his face, her scent, the warmness of her bare legs next to his and the softness of her dark blue nightgown under the touch of his hands.

It was the first moment when Sherlock looked at Jane like a woman, and not like a friend. It had happened before, the day of the prom party and early in the morning when he saw her in her wedding dress. In both occasions Sherlock told Jane she looked beautiful. In both occasions he looked at her like a man. The man he was was behind his eyes. But that night, it was different, it was more intimate. Jane wasn't wearing dresses and heels. She was wearing only a pair of panties and a silky nightgown. Jane didn't look like a girl any more. She was a woman now.

Sherlock risked his own luck and did what he instinctively wanted to do. He moved his left hand and placed it on Jane's lower back, while his right was caressing Jane's scarred shoulder with circular, soft movements. Both were looking into their eyes, and millions of questions were crossing Sherlock's mind. Why was Jane doing this? Was she going to kiss him? Did she want him?

Did Jane love him?

After so many seconds, maybe minutes only looking at him without saying a word, Jane let a hand travel on Sherlock's curls, then on his cheekbones. She bit her lip and lowered her head.

Their lips were only inches apart.


	19. Hurts Like Heaven

Still lying next to him and without any previous warning, if it was ever needed, Jane moved her body until she was over Sherlock's. She pressed both palms on each side of Sherlock's head and the entire world stopped for a moment, only for them, and Jane lowered her head until she was inches away from Sherlock's face, close to his mouth, to his ridiculously pink lips. The entire room was dark, but the lights coming from outside the windows and from the lamp next to Sherlock was the only thing illuminating both figures on one same bed. Jane placed both legs on each side of Sherlock' tights.

Everyone could have seen Sherlock's dilated eyes. Everyone could have noticed he stopped breathing for a moment when his friend - now his wife, Jane, was practically over him and very, but very close to his lips. Sherlock moved his hands and placed them shamelessly on Jane's back, on the space between her waist and her shoulder blades.

Their bodies weren't touching,  _yet_. Sherlock could feel Jane's soft breathing on his face, her scent, the warmness of her bare legs next to his and the softness of her dark blue nightgown under the touch of his hands.

It was the first moment when Sherlock looked at Jane like a woman, and not like a friend. It had happened before, the day of the prom party and early in the morning when he saw her in her wedding dress. In both occasions Sherlock told Jane she looked beautiful. In both occasions he looked at her like a man. The man he was was behind his eyes. But that night, it was different, it was more intimate. Jane wasn't wearing dresses and heels. She was wearing only a pair of panties and a silky nightgown. Jane didn't look like a girl any more. She was a woman now.

Sherlock risked his own luck and did what he instinctively wanted to do. He moved his left hand and placed it on Jane's lower back, while his right was caressing Jane's scarred shoulder with circular, soft movements. Both were looking into their eyes, and millions of questions were crossing Sherlock's mind. Why was Jane doing this? Was she going to kiss him? Did she want him?

Did Jane love him?

After so many seconds, maybe minutes only looking at him without saying a word, Jane let a hand travel on Sherlock's curls, then on his cheekbones. She bit her lip and lowered her head.

Their lips were only inches apart.

Jane's hands and knees became weaker, and slowly she started to press her body against Sherlock's. He didn't complain, she was light. She pressed her head next to his and started kissing the skin under his left ear. Sherlock felt Jane's chest against his and a very, but very small, unnoticeable pregnant bump against his own stomach.

Jane placed her right hand on his chest. Sherlock's hands were travelling on her back and Jane moved further and started kissing his cheekbones. The kisses were slow and it seemed they would never get to his lips when Sherlock felt something he had never experienced before. He had shared a bed with Jane many times in the past, this wasn't new. Before she met Sam, Sherlock would always visit her, quite regularly and he would stay at her place. They talked and talked in those nights and Jane's bed was big, it was like an unspoken agreement and Sherlock would sleep next to her.

But tonight the things changed. Sherlock couldn't see Jane like a friend any more.

Having her body tightly pressed against his and her thin, soft lips on his face, the inevitable moment came when he felt his own hardness between his legs and a not-so-shy moan escaped from his lips.

Sherlock's hands migrated to her shoulders. He touched the straps of Jane's nightgown and he pulled them a bit down, and shamelessly caressed the bare skin of her chest, just above her breasts, making Jane stop the kisses on his cheekbones and she moaned, just like he did seconds before.

Instinctively, Sherlock pushed her body until both rolled on the bed and he was on top. Not breaking the eye contact, Sherlock placed himself between her bare legs. He buried his face into her neck and started kissing the exposed skin. Jane's blonde hair, like rivers of water, was everything Sherlock wanted to touch as he kissed her neck and started to kiss downwards. He even felt Jane's hands on his back, and she started pulling at his old tee, a clear sign it ought to be off. With a quick movement, Sherlock removed it and threw it to the floor. Sherlock looked into Jane's blue eyes. She was admiring his now bare chest and she placed both palms on his shoulders and then on his neck, wanting him to be closer to her again. He lowered himself to kiss Jane's neck. This time he supported his weight using his right hand, which was pressed next to Jane's face.

Without thinking and without any hesitation, Sherlock moved his hips and thrust. Jane closed her eyes and moaned. She raised her legs, trying to cling them to Sherlock's waist, trying to make their bodies feel closer. Sherlock felt this and with his free hand he caressed Jane's still covered breast. His hand moved downwards to her waist and then to her hips and he stroked the soft skin of her bare legs, pulling her nightgown up and securing her legs on his waist. He continued kissing her jawline, her neck as he thrust again, softly.

"Ah - Ah yes... harder," moaned Jane.

Just before kissing her lips, Sherlock thrust hard, with desire, making Jane's moan loudly as she dug her nails into his back. Sherlock pulled down the straps of her nightgown, revealing, exposing Jane's breasts. They were round, not big, but no small, her skin was very pale, pure, soft. Her nipples were pink and he stroked them carefully, with soft and experimental touches and he enjoyed looking how Jane melted under his touch. Without even thinking about it, Sherlock kissed her chest and then her breasts, before taking one into his mouth.

"Oh my - ... Ah!"

"You are so beautiful," whispered Sherlock.

She was practically melting under his touch. Sherlock continued caressing her breasts as he thrust. But both were still dressed. Jane had her panties on and Sherlock was still wearing his pyjama bottoms, but Jane could feel his hard member being pressed against her.

Sherlock's hands moved to her hips, and his fingers were playing with the lacy waistband of Jane's panties when their mouths were just inches away from meeting. They were practically pulling at their underwear, Sherlock was very close to get rid of Jane's panties. Incredibly enough, they had explored most of their bodies without kissing, without meeting each other's lips.

And when Sherlock closed his eyes to finally meet Jane's lips for the first time in his life, Jane's words broke his heart.

" _Sam_... yes," panted Jane, and when she opened her eyes and looked into Sherlock's sad, broke gaze, she wanted to die.

"I... I'm sorry, Sherlock... this is not - I'm sorry."

Still over Jane, shirtless and with a massive erection, Sherlock looked at her and frowned, broken when realisation hit him. Sherlock was broken when he heard Jane saying, moaning, panting  _Sam_ 's name and not his.

He should have know it, he should have prevented this. Jane didn't love him, she never would. No one would love him.

They didn't say a word. Jane was flushing and her hands were trying to cover her naked chest. Both had a thin layer of sweat on their foreheads and for long seconds, both Jane and Sherlock looked into their eyes, maybe looking for the answer neither of them seemed to have.

Sherlock got abruptly off the bed and started looking for his tee on the floor when Jane tried to reach out his arm. "Sherlock, please - I'm sorry."

He didn't reply back, he just sat on the bed as he put on his blue robe, giving his back to Jane. Sherlock was not able to face her. Not when there was tears threatening to go out in plain sight. And not when the heart he had inside his chest was broken.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, talk to me. Please, I'm so sorry I didn't mean -"

Before Jane could say something else, Sherlock left the room slamming the door behind his back.

It was the moment when Jane realised she had made a huge mistake.

* * *

Sherlock was walking on the corridors outside his room trying to find some peace. He needed to think, he needed to go away, he needed silence to think what had just happened a few moments ago when he was touching Jane's body, when he was thrusting their hips together, when he was so close to kiss her lips and when she called him  _Sam_.

Sherlock walked on Mycroft and without knowing it, the older Holmes offered him an escape.

"There are business I need to sort out in Korea and I think you might want to come with me."

Sherlock frowned, but he didn't say anything.

"I will be doing a little tour for four weeks. I'd say you can sleep on it but -"

"You're leaving early in the morning," said Sherlock, finishing his brother's sentence.

"Indeed. Should you discuss it with your wife, you wouldn't want to leave her side in your wedding night."

Sherlock shook his head. "She doesn't need me."

Mycroft just nodded and watched as his brother made his way back upstairs.

* * *

Jane cried that night. She regretted with all her life what she had done. She regretted calling him  _Sam_. She regretted touching him, the kisses on his face, the caresses on his curls, her legs glued Sherlock's waist in an attempt to make their bodies feel closer. Jane regretted her hands travelling on Sherlock's naked, strong, soft chest and on his back. She regretted the moans, the pleads for closeness.

But Jane regretted all of that because Sherlock was her friend. What she had done to him was unfair. She asked herself why she did that? Why for all of a sudden she felt like kissing and touching Sherlock? What was she thinking? And why the hell she called him  _Sam_?

She waited for Sherlock to come back to their room when she fall asleep. The following morning her clock alarm woke her up and she slowly opened her eyes and tossed, still hoping Sherlock could be next to her, but he wasn't.

Jane wanted to cry. It was her fault, and she had been right, Sherlock would hate her and he would go away, just like Sam did. Of course he was going to leave her, no one loved her, Sam played with her and now she did something wrong with Sherlock and he walked away. But it was her mistake, she thought. She knew she shouldn't have, in the first place, touched Sherlock. She knew she shouldn't have done what she did, and she definitely shouldn't have thought about Sam when the man who was caressing her skin and exploring her body wasn't Sam but  _Sherlock_.

Sherlock was her friend. Friends don't do that, friends do not touch their friend's bodies as she did and as Sherlock did too.

 _Do I love him?_ Thought Jane.

She got dressed and remembered her father was leaving in a few hours, going back to Iraq.

"Good morning, Jane. Did you sleep well?"

Jane was greeted by Mrs Holmes when she went downstairs. Elizabeth had a warm smile on her face and she made Jane sit down with her for breakfast.

"I - yes, thank you."

"I'm so sorry Sherlock had to leave so soon after the wedding, but there are some family business Mycroft had to sort out and I understand Sherlock had to go with him."

Jane looked at Elizabeth confused. "He left?"

"Haven't Sherlock told you? He said he talked to you before leaving."

Jane was confused, but she nodded. Off course Sherlock gave his mother fake reasons for his suddenly departure. He would have never told his mother he was leaving because of what happened in their room.

"Ah, yes! I remember now. He's coming back in..."

Elizabeth Holmes sipped more of her tea. "Four weeks. He also told me you two would send emails to each other and that he would call you."

"Err, yes, we will."

"Good. He will be back just in time for the exams and you two will graduate soon and move together. Have you been looking for a house?"

Jane shook her head. "I guess we will do it when he comes back."

The breakfast with Mrs Holmes was nice and Jane managed to escape from her before the talking about the baby started. After what happened the night before, Jane didn't want to talk about her baby. She wasn't even sure if she had a husband any more, let alone a friend.

But now she needed to say good bye to her dad. She went to the airport and met with Harry and Mr Watson.

"Where's mum?"

"Working," said Harry as she continued tipping on her phone.

"Dad, I'm sorry Sherlock couldn't come -"

"He visited me quite early today. You never told me how clever he was, Jane," said Captain Watson as he hugged his daughter.

Jane frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He said he knew I'd be up early 'cause of my military training and he said I didn't need to worry anymore for you and the baby."

She couldn't believe it. "Did he - he said that?"

"Yeah, he's a clever boy, I can tell. He said he was goin' abroad for family business."

"Yes," Jane nodded a bit sadly.

"Hey, change that face! He'll come back soon, won't he?" asked Mr Watson and Jane nodded. "Then don't worry. It's only a few weeks, but then he'll come and he'll stay with you."

"I hope so."

Captain Watson finished promising their daughters he would Skype with them and that he was coming back in a couple of months to meet his grandchild. He told both to stay safe. He told Harry to keep on studying, to stay away from drinks and to take care of her mother now that Jane had a family to take care of. Mr Watson told his youngest daughter to stay safe, to take care of herself, of her baby and her husband. To study very hard to graduate soon, and he promised he was coming back to meet her baby.

Jane hugged her father tightly and cried. She asked him to stay, not to go to Iraq and to stay with her.

"I've to go, Jane. There's people who needs me -"

"But I'm your daughter and I need you!"

Captain Watson nodded. "I know. But you have a husband now, Jane. I'm leavin' so relieved your mother has found a good man who loves her. Harry is fine too, and you already have a man who can protect you. Sherlock promised me he was goin' to take care of you and I know he'll."

"Please dad, promise me you'll come and that you'll stay with me forever."

Mr Watson nodded and kissed both of his daughters. "Stay safe, my little girls. I promise I will come back very soon and I will stay with you forever."

Jane just wanted all the promises to be true.


	20. Postcards from Far Away

Going to school has never been so difficult since she was alone now. Even when the only class she shared with Sherlock was English Language, Jane felt very sad during her lunch breaks, where she always shared a table with her friend - her husband now, Sherlock. They always ate and talked about their classes, sometimes Jane would ask Sherlock to deduce some of her teachers and he would only do it for her. And not only the lunch breaks, but before getting married Sherlock would always picked her up and then they would go to school together and after class he would also take her back to her house.

It was kind of - not - it  _was_  sad to go alone, to have lunch breaks and to go back to school, again,  _alone_. And this made Jane realise how much she misses Sherlock, how his absence was painful and how his silence broke her heart. She knew she had failed him, she had done something she shouldn't have.

A thing she had to do every time she arrived at school was to take off her wedding ring and keep it in her pocket. It was something she discussed with Sherlock and they decided they were going to hide their rings. They didn't want the other students to know their status, let alone about her pregnancy. Jane wasn't ashamed of her condition, she lover her baby and she was proud of being able to have one. But Sherlock told her it was for the best to keep it to themselves.

And Sherlock was right. He was always right.

Always.

Another thing she had to do alone was to face the conditions, the symptoms of pregnancy. A couple of minutes after she had got up, she would feel sick and she would throw up. Always,  _always_  while showering before breakfast and before school, Jane would feel sick.

And morning sickness sucks..

Always.

Living with Richard and Elizabeth Holmes was nice. They were really sweet, caring people. They made themselves sure Jane ate all the proteins, vegetables, vitamins and that she consumed enough folic acid. But not only them but Suzanne as well. Some days Jane would visit her mother and some others she would go to the Holmes' to see how Jane was doing. Elizabeth and Suzanne also bought Jane all kinds of body creams and everything they thought she might need. Jane was told she needed the creams or she would regret it after the pregnancy. Jane knew they were right.

Mothers are always right.

Almost.

The days passed by, and Jane was only reading books, doing homework and learning all the things she needed to know for her exams. Mr Holmes indeed talked to the Headmaster and somehow Jane and Sherlock had two months to prepare themselves and take their exams to finally graduate from school. The long afternoons reading, studying, drinking tea and eating cakes and nice things made Jane forgot what had happened with Sherlock. But when it was dark, and when she had to sleep alone on a big bed, on Sherlock's bed, Jane felt very, but very alone, sad and hopeless.

Jane thought Sherlock was coming back soon and that he would tell everyone her lies. She thought Sherlock would tell everyone the baby she had inside her wasn't his but Sam's. That she was a promiscuous girl, that she was someone everyone should be ashamed of. Jane cried most of the nights and even when she was reading lots of books about pregnancy, the famous 'What to expect when you are expecting' and about women, and all of them said the same. The baby always feels everything.

Jane just wanted her baby wasn't feeling the sadness she had deep inside her heart.

As the days passed by, Sherlock never texted her and he never sent her any emails, as apparently he told his mother he would. Every time Elizabeth Holmes asked about it, Jane lied and said Sherlock called her, that he asked for her and the baby and for his parents as well. The idea of sending him one email was very tempting. Jane knew Sherlock always read his emails and texts, he had a smart-phone and she was sure if she sent him one, he would read it.

_**How are you? I miss you. J** _

She sent him a text a Monday, and she waited and waited for his reply. But Sherlock didn't reply until four days later, just after she left the clinic after her usual medical appointment with her doctor.

_**How is the baby? SH** _

Jane frowned while reading it. But of course he knew she had seen her doctor. He was Sherlock. She texted him back within seconds.

**_The doctor said the baby is already swallowing and kicking, though I can't feel it yet. I had an ultrasound done. I heard the heartbeats. J_ **

Jane had gone alone to the doctor's. Her mother was working and she didn't feel like asking Elizabeth to go with her. She was fine after all, she could manage a walk to the clinic after school. Jane had an ultrasound done and for the first time, she heard her baby's heartbeats. Her eyes were full of tears when she saw the images of her baby and when she heard the heartbeat. She wished Sherlock could have been with her, holding her hand.

As soon as she sent him that last text she waited the whole day to read his reply.

Sherlock didn't text back.

But a few days later she decided to try it again.

_**We miss you. J** _

Jane took a photo of the scan and sent him to Sherlock. She waited the whole day.

Sherlock didn't text back.

And the days passed by and Jane gave up. She continued going to school, doing homework, studying and revising. Jane managed the morning sickness very well, and she followed her mother and Elizabeth's advices. She also continued reading those books specially written for pregnant woman and where the nights too painful to endure and the tears were threatening to go out, Jane caressed her belly and promised her baby everything was going to be fine.

If only.

Three weeks after Sherlock left, Jane entered into the third month of her pregnancy and also into her second trimester. She knew her baby had, so far, fingernails, hair and the placenta started working. The organs were formed, the fingers and toes were separated and the genitals began to take on the proper gender and soon she was going to know if her baby was a baby girl or a baby boy.

Jane had now a small, bit notorious pregnant bump and she started using loose shirts and tees to go to school. It was unnoticeable under those clothes, so no one realised she was pregnant. The morning sickness faded away and she practically had no complication at all. Jane noted she had put on weight, not much but enough to see her cheeks gone rounder, and her breast were also getting bigger, at least they didn't look as they did before the pregnancy.

Jane visited her doctor once again a couple of days later, the same day she knew Sherlock was coming back to England.

The doctor told her she was fine, so was her baby and that her weight was fine too. She had an ultrasound done and she saw her baby and she also heard the heartbeats, but the doctor couldn't tell her the gender. Apparently Jane's baby was moving way too much and the doctor couldn't really tell if it was a baby boy or a baby girl.

But when Jane returned to the Holmes', she realised Mycroft was back. If Mycroft was back...

"Hello Jane, how are you?"

She tried to hide her excitement, but it was too difficult to do so. "Fine, I'm fine. How was your trip?"

"Excellent. The business are in order now. How's the baby?"

"Perfect. The doctor can't tell me if it's a boy or a girl, but it's healthy and - fine."

Jane looked around and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. And before she could ask, Mycroft answered her question.

"Sherlock will arrive within days. He's in Florida."

"In Florida? Mycroft, Sherlock is to take his exams soon," said Elizabeth, worried.

Mycroft nodded. "He already knows when he's to be back in the country. He has taken a case, and he's working at the moment."

Jane spent the rest of the afternoon reading and revising for her exams. Before going to bed she looked at Sherlock's forgotten violin. She took the bow in her hands.

"Your daddy plays the violin. And he's very clever," said Jane, caressing her growing belly.

_**I'm sorry, please come back. J** _

She turned off her mobile. Jane already knew Sherlock was not going to reply her texts. She just closed her eyes and placed a hand on her belly.

* * *

It was seven pm when his phone went off. Sherlock muttered something under his breath, thinking his brother was again sending him pointless texts when he read Jane's name on the screen.

**_I'm sorry, please come back. J_ **

Sherlock sighed and looked again at the picture Jane sent him weeks ago. It was a picture of the scan. Sherlock set the image as the wallpaper of his phone. After so many days away from Jane Sherlock missed her deadly. He missed her voice, her hands, her blue eyes, her distinctive perfume, her laughter.

But the memory of her touches on his skin, her moans and then her lips calling him by other name and not his, calling him  _Sam_ , not Sherlock... those memories were painful. Sherlock looked down at the gold ring on his left hand, he wanted to only remember the memories of their hurried, almost secret wedding when his phone went off again.

_**She misses you. MH** _


	21. Yes

Jane woke up very early the day of her first exam. It was English Language and she knew Sherlock was to arrive that day, if not, he would miss the exam. Without asking Jane knew Sherlock could miss all his exams and take them later.

She had a shower, she got dressed and went downstairs with all her books and revised one more time while having breakfast. When it was time, she asked the chauffeur if he could take her to school and a couple of minutes later, she was sitting on her usual desk in the empty classroom, re-reading her notes and waiting for one of the teachers to come.

Sherlock never arrived.

Jane tried not to think about him and to concentrate on her exam. It was difficult, but she could successfully complete it. She even asked the teachers if they knew if Sherlock was taking the exam, but they told her they didn't know anything about him.

By the time Jane had to go back to the Holmes', she decided to visit her mother instead. Suzanne couldn't stop touching her small pregnant bump and asking her how she was doing. Jane assured her mother she was fine, that Elizabeth and Richard were always making themselves sure she ate everything she and the baby needed to be healthy.

Suzanne told her youngest daughter she might have to go to Leeds because apparently Harry's situation has got worse and her drinking problems were getting quite serious. She told Jane Greg was going to be there if she needed him while she was with Harry.

"Has Sherlock arrived from his trip?"

Jane shook her head. "Mycroft said he's in Florida working."

"Working?"

"Solving a case."

Suzanne nodded. "Oh, let me show you the things I have bought for you."

Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers when her mother showed her all the things she had bought for her and for the baby. Suzanne had a box full of clothes, stuffed animals and baby things!

"Mum, you shouldn't have..."

"You don't like them?"

"No! I mean, I like them, I really love them, but... isn't too early? I don't even know the gender yet."

Suzanne smiled at her daughter. "It's never early for these things, Jane. Oh look, your father left this for you."

She gave Jane a little blue cotton hat.

"It's beautiful," said Jane as she wiped a few tears off her face.

"Isn't it? I think it's a baby girl, but well, your father was always right."

Jane already knew the story. When her mother was pregnant for the first time she insisted she was expecting a baby boy, but Mr Watson knew it was a girl. And since the first moment he named her Harriet. When Suzanne was pregnant for the second time, John Watson told everyone he was going to have another girl and her name was going to be Jane.

He was always right.

"I think it's a boy, mum. The doctors can't tell, but I know it's a boy."

"Have you discussed names with Sherlock?"

Jane bit her lip. "No, we haven't had the time," and she tried to change the subject. "I have to go, mum. I've another exam tomorrow and I need to revise."

She took the box with her and placed it on hers and Sherlock's room. Jane showed Elizabeth all the things and Mrs Holmes jokingly said she was going to beat Suzanne and she was going to get her and the baby more things too.

"And this blue hat?" asked Elizabeth after seeing all the baby clothes were white, expect for the little blue hat at the top of the box.

Jane smiled. "My father left it for me. He thinks it's going to be a boy."

"And what do you think?"

"I think it's going to be a boy," replied Jane, proudly.

Jane had tea and she continued revising until dinner. She was nervous for her exams, but she knew she had studied very hard, so she didn't need to be so worried.

Before going to bed she had a quick shower and she put on that blue nightgown again. She didn't wear it after that night in which she almost kissed Sherlock and called him by a wrong name. She also put on Sherlock's blue gown, trying to feel him close to her and climbed on the bed not before looking again at her latest scan. It was the the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Jane smiled at the picture. She knew her baby was going to be a boy. She knew it.

Jane covered her body with a thick duvet. The nice, warm nights were over and the Autumn was blossoming.

The bed was far too big for herself.

**_I'm sorry, please come back. J_ **

She immediately fell asleep.

* * *

It was late when he arrived. He was tired, the flight was long and he was jet-lagged too, but at least he solved a case. Sherlock missed solving cases, he has barely had one in weeks, and this one had been thrilling. It was his first experience in the States, and he successfully ensured the death sentence of a man who liked hitting his wife and also gambling in several casinos.

Sherlock twisted his mouth still feeling the perfume of the old lady he helped by ensuring her abusive husband's death sentence. Mrs Hudson, as he remembered her name was, was a very good, sweet old lady. He told her he didn't want any money, but she told him she would always be grateful for what he had done. And she offered a nice flat in central London. It was placed in Baker Street, close to Regents Park, a prime spot. Sherlock knew he had enough money to buy the entire street if he wanted, but the old lady insisted she could offer him a special deal.

And he promised he was going to think about it.

When he opened the front door everything was quite. He looked at the books placed on the living room table, they were Jane's. She had been revising for her exams.

He made his way to his room and hesitated when he was standing in front of the door. Sherlock wasn't entirely sure if he could just step into his room and look at Jane. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to talk to her. Sherlock wasn't even sure what they were now. Where they husband and wife? Yes, they were married. Still. Where they friends? He didn't know. He thought about taking the guest room, but he decided he was going to sleep on his bed.

When Sherlock opened the door, the first thing he saw was Jane's figure on his bed. She had her blonde hair loose, and her eyes were closed. Even covered by a duvet, Jane's hands on her belly were still noticeable. She was lying on her side of the bed while his side remained untouched. Next to her, on her bedside table was a scan of her latest ultrasound. Sherlock looked at it and frowned. It looked completely different from the one Jane had sent him many days ago. The baby was bigger now.

Then, Sherlock looked at the desk, which was covered with stuffed animals and baby clothes. He looked at them with interest. They were all very, very small and white. The only thing which had a distinctive colour was a very little baby hat he deduced was a present from Captain Watson. He knew Jane's father thought the baby was going to be a boy.

Sherlock knew it too.

It was going to be a boy.

He removed his clothes and changed into his pyjamas. Sherlock climbed on his bed and tossed to face Jane, who was lying on her side of the bed. He softly cuddled her. Jane was deeply asleep when she rested her head on his chest, close to his heart. Before taking her hand Sherlock caressed Jane's small pregnant bump, tenderly.

It was something he had missed so much. He missed the cuddles, the hugs, her head on his chest, her hair, her smell.

Sherlock kissed her forehead when Jane moved.

"It's OK, go back to sleep," whispered Sherlock, softly. He took a deep breath, inhaling Jane's floral, sweet scent and closed his eyes.

* * *

When Jane woke up, she found a pair of gray eyes observing her and a hand on her belly. She was still lying very close to Sherlock.

"You're back," said Jane, sleepy, but smiling, happy.

Sherlock nodded.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I've never meant what happened that night, please, forgive me," said Jane as she sat on the bed

He cleared his throat. "Jane, I've always assumed love is something that I would never experience. But that night my assumptions, the data I had changed."

"Sherlock -"

"When you called me ' _Sam'_ , the moments we shared before that - do you regret it? You didn't mean them, as you said?"

Jane looked at Sherlock's gold ring. He was wearing it.

"Is not like... -" Jane hesitated for a moment, fearing Sherlock's answer.

"Within the many options I have in my mind, one of them is the hormonal and emotional change you are experiencing as the pregnant woman you are now. It is expected for you to have mood swings, to want something over any other thing, to crave for things. I suppose -"

Jane started to realise what Sherlock wanted to say and she reached out his hand. "It's not like that. I... This is so hard to say, Sherlock -"

"What do you mean?"

"I regret calling you Sam," Jane exploded and tears started to flow down her eyes. "But... I don't regret anything else. I don't want to lose you, Sherlock. You're my best friend."

"I don't have friends, Jane," said Sherlock, wiping Jane's tears off her face.

She bit her lip. "I love you, Sherlock. And I'm sorry for calling you by a wrong name, but I love you and all this time you were away I've realised I can't live without you. It's OK if you don't feel the same... "

For seconds neither of them seemed to be able to talk. Sherlock wanted to meet her eyes, but Jane continued looking at the sheets covering their bodies.

Sherlock felt something different inside his chest. Something he had never experienced before.

"I don't have friends, Jane. I have a  _wife_."

"Sherlock -"

"I love you."

Before Jane could something else, Sherlock pressed his lips to hers.

It was their first kiss.

And it was sweet, tender and caring.

Sherlock's inexperienced lips followed Jane's. Both had their eyes closed and soon Sherlock placed a hand around her waist, trying to make the space between them disappear. Jane wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck and they continued kissing.

Jane's soft fingers caressed Sherlock's neck. "I love you, Sherlock. Please, you have to promise you won't leave  _us_."

Sherlock chuckled. "I promise I will never leave you and  _our_  baby."


	22. One I Love

The same morning Jane and Sherlock decided they loved each other and that they wanted their love give it a try, they also decided to take everything slowly.

Everything was strange, they were already married but they were meeting each other now. Their glued hands wasn't a part of a lie as it has been. Their hands, glued together, were now honest, sincere touches and a very innocent way to show how much they loved each other. Their kisses began awkwardly, Sherlock almost asked Jane if he could kiss her. Their cuddles before going to sleep were sweeter now.

But fairy tales are not fairy tales most of the time. Despite the fact they wanted to hold their hands, kiss and lie in each other's arms all day long, they had exams to take in order to graduate, so they spend a full week reading, revising and preparing themselves for their exams.

"Well, today we're taking our last exam," said Jane as she sipped more of her morning tea. Sitting next to her was Sherlock, who was drinking coffee and eating toasts. Under the table, both had their ankles entwined and they were really happy.

Elizabeth smiled at them. "I have not seen you so happy for a very long time, Sherlock. Marriage suits you."

Sherlock didn't reply at his mother's comment, Jane just giggled.

"I know you will do amazingly, but I'm afraid Richard and I must leave. Sherlock, your father and I are leaving on a business trip to America. Would you be fine on your own?"

"Hmm."

Richard sat next to his wife. "If you need anything, don't hesitate and call Mycroft."

"I won't call him -"

"I will, Richard. Hope you two have a pleasant journey," said Jane.

The Holmes' said good bye to their son and to Jane and then, both left the house.

"You won't call Mycroft."

Jane smiled. "I'm so calling him. But if you are very, but very good, I might consider it."

Both Jane and Sherlock went to school and took their final exam. They were told the results were to be ready soon, and holding their hands, both left the school and headed straight to town.

"I want to take you to the cinema."

Jane turned and looked at him surprised. "You don't like going there. You always say it's pointless and boring."

"But I know you want to go."

"Yeah, but you don't need to go if you don't like it."

They watched 'Skyfall' and Jane fangirled all over the film, pointing out how good the scenes were and how handsome Daniel Craig was. Sherlock rolled his eyes at that comment and Jane just laughed.

It was late when both friends returned to the house. Jane decided to take a bath and Sherlock went straight to check on his experiments.

They had finally finished school and now they were free. Well, they had free time to do what they wanted to do and they didn't need to touch a book for a very good time. Jane still wanted to go to university, so she knew after her baby was born she would apply for universities and that she was going to study very, very hard to graduate and become a doctor.

On one hand, Jane felt happy they had finished school. She didn't need to wake up very early in the morning and put up with her noisy classmates. Sherlock shared her feelings, he even said he was going to have more time to do his experiments because he was already bored at school. But on the other hand, Jane felt useless. She felt she couldn't do anything without people telling her she might get hurt, or that it was dangerous for her and her baby. She wasn't a damsel in distress, but she knew it was for the best, and now she had a little baby inside her and she needed to protect him.

While having her bath, Jane remembered all the kisses, the touches, the cuddles before falling asleep, Sherlock's warm kisses and Sherlock's protectiveness. Since he arrived from Korea and they sorted out their relationship, Sherlock changed. He was sweeter, protective and he was a new person Jane was discovering day after day. Jane wished he had been her boyfriend. She wished Sherlock had been the boy she had fallen for, not Sam. Jane wished her baby had been Sherlock's and not someone else's. She felt so guilty, so stupid. Sherlock had always been the one. And she knew she shouldn't have ignored him and his feelings. Sherlock confessed her he always had feelings for her, but he denied them thinking she would never love him. Then, when Sam appeared, he knew he was going to hurt her.

Jane told him she loved him.

And Sherlock kissed her in return.

Jane had been thinking about that night in which they touched each other, in which they were so close to be one. She really wanted Sherlock. The nights only kissing each other were not enough. Holding hands and entwining their fingers wasn't enough. Every night it was harder. Every night lying in Sherlock's arms was painful. They kissed, and immediately after a few minutes doing so, she would feel Sherlock's hardness close to her and his hands travelling on her body, discovering her and without a word, they would break the kiss and go to sleep. Jane was afraid. She didn't want Sherlock to think she was an easy girl or that they were taking things too fast. Jane knew it was Sherlock's first romantic relationship. He assured her it was the first and also the last relationship of his life. He told her he wanted to grow old with her, that she was the first and the last woman in his life. And Jane also knew Sherlock had always been struggled with his own feelings. He wasn't an expert, well, no one is, but love and feelings weren't his area. Jane didn't want to push him, so when she told him they were going to take it slowly, she really meant it.

However, Jane didn't knew Sherlock felt the same way. He also wanted to do more things than kissing and holding hands. He wanted to touch her, he wanted to feel her body, he wanted them to be one. But he didn't want to push her. When Jane told him they were going to take things slowly, he thought she still had Sam Sawyer inside her head. And being the clever man he was, Sherlock formulated, realised he needed Jane to fall for him. They were married, he loved her, but he wasn't entirely sure if Jane loved him as much as she said she did. There was the fear she was confused. There was the fear Jane might stop love him one day. And there was the fear that he if pushed too much, Jane was going to hate him.

"Sherlock, come to bed. It's late," said Jane as she stepped into Sherlock's 'lab room', as he insisted everyone should call it. It was a small room where he kept a table full of experiments and a lab equipment which was next to his and Jane's room.

Sherlock looked at her from head to toes and he had to fight the urge to run and push Jane against the nearest wall and made her his without thinking twice. Jane was wearing a silky white nightgown, which was short, it wasn't even long till her knees and it revealed most of the porcelain skin of her perfect legs. Jane was also wearing his blue robe. Her hair was damp, her cheeks were flushed.

She was beautiful.

He nodded. Jane took his hand and led him to their room. As soon as she closed the door, she was on tiptoes kissing him softly, tenderly. Sherlock closed his eyes as he tasted her warm, soft lips. He loved, but he _loved_  Jane's lips and her hands on his neck trying to bring him closer. Sherlock placed his hands on her waist and both fell on their big bed, Jane on her back and Sherlock on top of her, between her legs.

Their kisses became passionate and they were exploring each other's mouths with their tongues when Jane felt Sherlock's hard member against her open legs. She moaned softly and Sherlock thrust harder, and Jane threw her head back to the pillow. He started to untie the robe and then he pulled down the straps of her nightgown. Jane wasn't wearing any bra. Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock stroked Jane's breast and her nipples.

"Ah, yes... ah," panted Jane.

When Jane tried to remove his shirt, Sherlock stepped back and turned.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"You said we needed to take it slowly."

Jane nodded, understanding. "I know I said that - but I want you, Sherlock. Please, I  _need_  you. I don't want to push you, you don't need to do anything you don't want to -"

"I want to. I need you too, Jane."

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and Jane placed her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. They remained silent for minutes until somehow, Jane understood one of Sherlock's fears.

"Sherlock, I've... I've talked to my doctor about  _this_. This is..." Jane swallowed, nervously. "This is fine. It's all fine, I promise."

He looked at her. "Will  _he_  be safe?"

After Sherlock came back, both discussed it and both were sure, both  _knew_  Jane was expecting a baby boy. And since then they always referred to her baby as  _he_.

Sherlock had read books, he had read articles on the Internet, he knew sex during pregnancy was always safe unless the pregnancy had certain risks. Jane's wasn't one of those. Jane's pregnancy was safe now, she had entered into the second trimester and the risks of natural miscarriage were very, very low. There weren't risks. It wasn't a fetus anymore, it was a baby and  _he_  had a heart inside his chest and it was beating as well.

But he didn't want to hurt her, nor the baby.

" _Our_  baby will be safe," whispered Jane as she kissed him again and slowly, Sherlock returned to her arms.

This time Jane took Sherlock's shirt off. He kissed her while he undid and removed his blue robe, which Jane was wearing and when he wanted to pull the straps of her nightgown down, Jane shook her head and smiled at him.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"No," replied Sherlock, almost whispering.

"Let's do it slowly."

Jane pushed Sherlock until he was on his back on the bed. She started kissing, his jawline, his neck, the white skin of his throat, his chest and his strong abs. With a quick movement Jane removed Sherlock's pyjama bottoms and threw them to the floor. Then, she touched Sherlock's erection, and he closed his eyes when the sensation of Jane's hands on his still dressed cock was too much to handle.

"Jane -"

Sherlock tried to tell her something when Jane cut him off. "This is your first time, Sherlock?"

He nodded, slowly, shyly.

It was Sherlock's first time. It was the first time he was being undressed, it was the first time he was being caressed and touched in such an intimate way. It was the first time he was letting his feelings rule his heart, mind and body. It was the first time he was allowing himself to love. It was the first time he was allowing himself to being a man, and it was the first time Sherlock wanted someone with all his heart.

Jane smiled at him, tenderly. She felt such tenderness towards Sherlock. Jane felt so happy, grateful, fortunate to be the girl - the woman next to Sherlock. She always told him the same, she was so happy, so in love with him. And every time she said so, Sherlock asked how come a clever girl like her could be with someone like him.

They knew they were made for loving each other, they were destined to be together.

"I'm your first girl."

There was a furious blush on Sherlock's cheeks. "The first and the last one."

Jane flushed. "Do you love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

"Do you want me?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, feeling Jane's soft fingers touching his hard member. "You can't imagine."

Jane looked down at her hands stroking Sherlock's erection. She smiled shyly, it was the first time she was doing this to him. Since they met, she's never conceived of the idea they would end up like this; married, waiting for a baby which wasn't theirs, only hers, falling in love, kissing and touching each other and now, close to make love for the first time.

"Do you like this?" asked Jane, speeding the strokes on Sherlock's cock.

He shut his eyes, tightly. "Yes."

"Do you want me to take you with my mouth, Sherlock?"

"Ah, yes - Jane, please," moaned Sherlock in response and Jane smiled.

The talk worked. Jane wanted to know  _what_  Sherlock wanted. She sadly, inwardly admitted she was experienced, far more experienced than Sherlock, but she wanted their first time to be perfect and she also wanted Sherlock to enjoy it and to feel comfortable. She had noted he was a bit nervous, and she wanted him to feel confident, to trust her.

She made her way downwards and with a soft, experimental kiss, Jane kissed the tip of his cock while pulling the foreskin back, making Sherlock moan her name. Sherlock was already on the edge after Jane's fingers had explored the most intimate place of his body. Her touch was warm, accurate. She did know where and how she needed to touch him. The awkwardness inside his body started to fade away when she took his manhood into her mouth. Sherlock had to bit his lip, close his eyes and threw his head back as he felt Jane's warm mouth and her tongue working on his cock. She licked the head and the shaft, making Sherlock shut his eyes tightly, and moaning not only her name but incoherent things as well.

"Ahhh, Jane... "

She continued kissing and sucking him off when Sherlock raised his head to look at her. Jane was looking at him, straight at his gray eyes while sucking his cock and Sherlock thought it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, let alone experienced. He instinctively placed a hand on her head and he felt himself deep into her mouth.

Sherlock was pulling at the sheets under his body. Every second that passed by, it was as much difficult to handle as Jane's tongue and mouth on his cock. He couldn't stop moaning and panting her name. Sherlock could even hear her laugh and he didn't mind. He was enjoying this far too much to open his eyes or to take a deep breath. He felt so close, so close to explode when she suddenly stopped and crawled until she was over him again.

"Did you like it?"

Sherlock nodded shyly, again. He kissed her again, and this time it was a very passionate kiss. Sherlock placed both of his hands on her shoulders and softly pushed her until she was on her back. Jane wanted to smile, she knew Sherlock liked that position, he liked to have control, power over her. And she liked it as well.

Jane let him kiss her and he eventually started pulling at her nightgown. Sherlock could sometimes be desperate, and Jane knew he was desperate, and he wanted to touch her and to take her body just now.

The young man's eyes shone with excitement, lust and desire when he met Jane's porcelain body. Under that white, silky nightgown she was wearing nothing but a pair of black lacy panties.

"I've been putting on weight," said Jane, a little bit shyly when she noted Sherlock's eyes were scanning her figure.

He shook his head and kissed her. "You are beautiful, Jane."

Sherlock started kissing her neck, the valley between her breasts, her waist and when his eyes met her black lacy panties he removed them very, very slowly and threw them to the floor. Jane was a bit nervous now, she felt as if it was her first time again and she was about to lose her virginity. While looking at Sherlock placing his hands on her legs, trying to pull them apart to make himself a space between them, Jane tried to identify any signs of nervousness on him. It was Sherlock's first time, he told her so. But at times Sherlock looked like someone experienced. Every time Sherlock touched her, every time he let his hands travel on her body, those caresses, those strokes, those soft hands on her were perfect. Sherlock knew when and how he needed to touch her and the thought of Sherlock inside her made Jane's heart beat faster when he cradled until he was between her legs and kissed her again.

He focused on her breasts. He took one into his mouth and Jane closed her eyes, the pleasure was too much to stand. Sherlock teased her and he even played with her nipple using his tongue, making Jane melt under his touch.

"Sher..."

"You taste so good, Jane."

She chuckled. "Do I?"

"Yes."

Without really thinking what he was doing, Sherlock moved a hand between Jane's legs and started exploring her. Still kissing her, Sherlock hand started working on her clitoris and he rubbed it using his soft fingertips. Jane bit his lip and Sherlock knew what he was doing was good. Jane was wet and after reading so many books and websites, he knew she was ready. He knew both were ready. Sherlock broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. Both knew there was no coming back. They knew they were making love and they were about to become one. Neither of them hesitated and Jane kissed him again, reassuring him she was fine and that she needed him.

"Please Sherlock, make me yours," whispered Jane.

But now what was really worrying Sherlock was the position. Jane didn't have a prominent pregnant bump yet, so the missionary position could be performed. Sherlock had thought about it and he wanted to try that one first since he'd read it was the perfect position for a first time. He wanted to look into her eyes while they did it. The could try spooning or any other position which didn't involve him lying over her and her stomach. Before Sherlock could say something else, Jane reassured him she was fine.

Jane raised her legs and glued to Sherlock's waist, crossing her ankles behind his back. She knew the position was perfect and that it would increase the penetration. Sherlock took his member and guided to Jane's entrance. When she felt the tip of his cock close to her, Jane nodded and kissed him.

"I love you."

"I love you, Sherlock. Please, make me yours."

The room was dark and they could only look into each other's eyes thanks to a small lamp placed next to their bed. The warm yellowish lights and the smell of their bodies, the thin layer of sweat on their bodies, Jane's blonde hair like rivers of water on the pillows - it was too much to endure for Sherlock. He closed his eyes and leaned close to her, guiding his member into her entrance and taking a deep breath.

Sherlock sunk into Jane.

With one long, slow thrust Sherlock filled Jane completely. His eyes were closed and he stopped breathing. Sherlock felt his entire world was changing and everything he had known had no sense anymore. The sensation was driving him crazy. Jane was very tight, warm and he quickly buried his face on the curve of her neck. When he tried to move back, just a little bit, he felt Jane's hands on each of his biceps and her grip was tight. Sherlock opened her eyes to look into hers and there were tears. Immediately, all his fears started to become true. Sherlock feared he might have hurt her or the baby. Sherlock didn't want to cause her any pain.

"Jane, I'm sorry -"

Jane shook her head. "It's just - it's... you're big," admitted Jane, shyly. "Hold on a sec."

The young man nodded, scared and completely flushed by her comment. He did know he wasn't precisely... small. But the sensation was amazing, Jane was so tight and her warm walls around his cock was heavens. Sherlock didn't want this to be over, he wanted to take her, he wanted to made her his and only his. But if Jane was in pain or if her baby was in danger, he knew he'd have to stop, and he was determined to do so if it was the case.

After a couple of seconds Jane moved her hips and he took the clue. Sherlock started moving in and out her slowly, with slow, soft thrusts. Jane was tight, very tight and he didn't want to hurt her and the baby, so even when he wanted to thrust harder and faster, he had to bit his lip and control himself.

Sherlock had a hand tucked under her right shoulder, where he was supporting his weight and where he was holding himself in order to thrust into Jane. His other hand was on one of her breast and he was softly rubbing her nipple when he looked at her face. Jane was frowning and her eyes were closed, tightly closed.

"Are you OK?"

She nodded. "Ah Sherlock... your cock, feels so good."

When Jane opened her eyes to meet Sherlock's face, she noted he had a furious shade of pink on his cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It was a - ahhh... a compliment," said Jane between loud moans.

"I know."

Some minutes after, Jane was already panting Sherlock's name and digging her nails into the skin of his back. He buried his face into her neck, but he raised his head at times to look into Jane's eyes, to look at her face and her expressions, to see if she was enjoying this as much as he was enjoying it.

"Ah,  _Sherlock_  - yes, like that... harder, do it harder, please."

Despite Jane's insistence, her begging and his own desire to take her hard, Sherlock continued thrusting slowly, kissing and biting her neck.

"Sher, please... harder!"

"I don't want to hurt you or the baby," replied Sherlock, when Jane pushed him and both rolled on the bed.

Now she was on top and she had more control. Sherlock sat and rested his back on the headboard as Jane placed both of her palms on his chest and lolled her head back as soon as they changed the position. Sherlock was completely inside her and she had to bit her lip to stop herself from screaming his name. He placed his hands on her hips, helping her to move up and down.

"Oh Sherlock, yeah... like that,  _please_."

Sherlock shut his eyes at the new position. Jane was so tight and it felt so good. Now he understood why people made such a fuss when it was about sex. Jane started moaning loudly and Sherlock knew he was hitting her G spot. It was something he had been looking up in several books too. He knew by Jane's moans and the way she shut her eyes it was the first time she was experiencing such great sex. This made Sherlock smile inwardly. He knew he wasn't his first man, but he knew he was the last. And he wanted to be the first making love to her this way, because he was indeed making  _love_  to her. Sam never did it, Jane never told him but he knew it. Sam only used her, he fucked her. And Sherlock, looking at Jane's porcelain body over him, at the thin layer of sweat on her forehead, her blue eyes looking at him, at her dilated pupils, her pink lips, her flushing cheeks and her beautiful breasts bouncing up and down as she rocked his hips, he knew he was making love to her, he was loving her.

"You are so beautiful."

He was determined he was going to be the only one making her feel this pleasure and this sensations.

"Am I?"

"Yes. You're so beautiful, I don't... ah - I don't deserve you."

Jane kissed as she continued rocking. "If you don't... deserve me, who does then?"

"No one. Because you're mine."

Sherlock's grip on her hips got tighter as Jane's movements got faster. They became erratic, faster and the rubbing and the friction of their bodies increased. Sherlock had to shut his eyes every time their hips met because that was the moment when he was deep into her, when he was completely, fully inside her.

"I'm yours... ahhh, Sherlock - mark me, make me yours forever," moaned Jane as Sherlock hugged her waist and took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked. Jane lolled her head back as she started rocking faster. The pleasure was too much and she knew both were very close.

"Ahhh... ahhh Sherlock, faster, do it faster."

Sherlock push her again, changing their position again, until he was on top and between her legs. Without breaking the eye contact, he did as he was told. He thrust faster and harder, making Jane scream, moan his name, very loudly. Sherlock had to thank his parents were not at home.

"You're mine... forever."

"Yes, Sherlock - harder, like that, ahhh, ahhh!"

She exploded and orgasmed. Sherlock kissed her and thrust three more times and he finally orgasmed inside her.

Both were still catching their breaths when Sherlock took her hand and entwined their fingers. Sherlock kissed her passionately. "I love you."

"I love you."


	23. A Hopeful Transmission

Sherlock woke up when the sun was already up on the sky. When he opened his eyes he couldn't help but smile at the sight. Jane was lying next to him, but she wasn't facing him. The only thing covering their bodies was a thick duvet and nothing else. He cuddled her and placed his right hand on her small pregnant bump, protectively, and kissed Jane's bare shoulder and her neck.

He didn't want to go back to sleep even when he was very tired. That was the moment when everything he had read started to have sense. The sexual positions, the touches, the sensations, everything was clear now. He knew which areas in Jane's body were quite sensitive now, not only because of the arousal but because of the pregnancy. He knew touching, caressing and sucking her breasts was something that would increase the pleasure she could feel. Still, all the data he had collected, the things he had planned and anticipated were nothing compared to real life. Books and internet told him the basics, the procedures and they might have guided him in his first sexual experience. But in real life, he couldn't explain the feelings, the sensations, the touches, the warmness of their bodies, how perfect they were when they became one. There is no book which could have possibly warned beforehand how delightful, exquisite and perfect sex might be.

Leaving aside the word  _sex_ , what they did was expressing the love they felt for each other. Jane's reassuring words, her soft kisses, her moans, her compliments, everything was  _love_. He trusted his performance could be qualified by Jane as an act of love towards her and not only an act of lust and desire. He knew by the way he touched her, by the way he tried to undress her so fast at the beginning, and by the way he couldn't just get his eyes of her body Jane would say he was desperate to have sex. But Sherlock was desperate to feel her, to love her and to take her for the first time. He had never imagined they would touch, kiss, let alone do what they did the night before. Since he'd saw her for the first time, when she was a very shy girl long time ago he never conceived of the idea of loving her the way he did. He never thought he was going to be the one loving her, touching her, kissing her, exploring her body and making love to her.

What Sherlock couldn't quite forget was the moment when Jane touched his cock and when she licked him and when she sucked him off. Not at that moment, but Sherlock realised Jane did it magnificently, she knew what and how she had to touch him and she just did what she needed to do to give him enough pleasure. However, Sherlock tried to think in something else, because he knew thinking about their performances was thinking Jane was an expert, or at least she knew far a lot more than he did. Of course Jane knew, she wasn't the virgin one. She had been with  _Sam_. Sherlock knew he wasn't the first man in Jane's life, but he wanted to be the only one from now. He wanted to be her last man. Jane kissed him and she assured him he was the only man she would always want. And Sherlock believed her.

The thoughts of the previous night made Sherlock hard again, and he was spooning Jane. Her right hand which had been resting on her belly started moving upwards, until he touched the soft skin of her breasts and her nipples. God, Sherlock loved her breasts. He loved her pale, soft skin, her pink nipples, her curves, her waist, her hips, her legs, her arms and her shoulders. He loved her completely.

Sherlock caressed her breasts until he felt her slowly waking up and moaning his name. She moved her hips backwards, and moaned as soon as she realised Sherlock was there, just behind her, pressing his big erection against her.

"Ahhh, Sherlock..."

Sherlock smiled, still caressing her breasts and thrusting his hips against Jane's. "Had good dreams?"

"Hmm."

"Did you dream about me?" asked Sherlock, softly talking to her ear. He already knew Jane loved his deep voice.

Jane nodded and stretched her arms. "Yes."

"Do you want to tell me?"

"I dreamt you were making love to me all day long."

"Tell me, Mrs Holmes, did I do it better in your dreams or in real life?"

Jane giggled. "I can't really tell."

"Should I refresh your memory, then?"

She nodded, giggling. Before she tossed to face him, Sherlock, still cuddling her and with his chest glued to her back, placed a hand behind her upper knee and lifted it.

"Are we trying a new position? What we did last night was good."

Carefully without warning, Sherlock sunk into her again. He firstly placed a hand on her hip as he thrust, slowly. After a few minutes like that, he moved his hand upwards, caressing Jane's growing belly, her ribs and then her breasts.

"Agh..."

Sherlock kissed her ear. "Are you OK, love?"

"Yes."

Jane took Sherlock's hand and moved it downwards again, guiding it to her clitoris. He rubbed it carefully, observing Jane's response.

"God, Sherlock. Your  _hands_..."

He chuckled. "Do you like it?"

"I've never felt like this... ahhh, before," Jane could feel Sherlock smiling and she kissed him. "Your cock, it feels so good. Ah yes - harder, do it harder."

Sherlock smiled every time Jane said that. That morning Sherlock confirmed his own deductions. He was the first one making feel Jane this pleasure, which was too much and enough to drive her completely crazy.

"I don't want to hurt you."

Jane closed her eyes. "I know."

This time they did it slowly, lazily. Sherlock kissed her neck passionately and Jane moaned his name. Sherlock couldn't get enough of her moans, enough of her sighs full of pleasure. He couldn't get enough of her body and he wanted to make her feel every inch of him.

"Jane, you feel so good," said Sherlock and he kissed her shoulder.

They made love and Jane orgasmed moaning his name. She moaned his name and no one else's. Sherlock knew it, she was his. She would always be his.

Jane orgasmed moaning  _his_  name.

And that Sam Sawyer was nothing.

"I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too."

* * *

Having the house for themselves for an undefined amount of time gave Sherlock and Jane all the freedom they needed to express how much they loved each other. They made love at every time of the day, they didn't mind if it was morning, lunch time, afternoon, night, twilight. They had also 'christened', as Jane liked to call it, practically every corner and every single place of their room. They made love on the bed, on the floor, on the desk, against the wall, against the windows, on their dressing room between Sherlock's shirts and Jane's jumpers. They even did it on their bathroom, while having a shower, and in the bathtub.

They didn't mind the maids cleaning the rooms close to theirs, but both were pretty vocals while making love.

Specially Jane.

And Sherlock learned pregnant women are practically insatiable.

He had read about it. He knew pregnancy increased the sexual desire. And Sherlock had the advantage of being young. Every time he cum and orgasmed, Jane was kissing him again, ready to start what she called a 'second round' five minutes after, and there was Sherlock ready to fulfil her wishes. However, it wasn't like that all the time. It wasn't as if they were making love and touching each other all the time. There were days in which they didn't see each other for hours. Jane would go to her mother's or to the shops and she would come back home late and Sherlock would spend the entire day doing experiments and little else, so at the end of the day the only thing they wanted to do was to sleep. But there were days in which neither of them wanted to leave the room but for to eat.

There were days, Sherlock noted, in which Jane would only sleep. She would woke up very late, she would ask one of the maids to bring her breakfast and after eating, she would go to sleep again. This worried Sherlock. He read and found a lot of articles about pregnant women, he found out it was common for a pregnant woman to sleep several hours per day. And there were also days in which Jane would only eat. Sometimes she woke him up in the middle of the night, asking him to get her something to eat, preferably sweet and quite caloric such as ice cream, chocolate or cookies.

It is said people do anything for love.

And Sherlock was walking down the stairs of his own house at three in the morning looking for cookies and a glass of milk for his pregnant wife.

As there were days in which Jane would only sleep, there were also days in which she couldn't just close an eye the whole night. And thank God Sherlock could put up with that. He was able to stay awake for long periods of time, so he didn't mind every time she woke him up and asked him if he could stay awake with her because she couldn't sleep.

During those nights, Jane cried.

At the beginning, it was hard to make her talk about it. Sherlock knew she had fears, there were things, thoughts and memories threatening her.

"Tell me, Jane."

Both were together on the bed. Sherlock was sitting, resting his back on the headboard and Jane had her head buried into his chest. "I had a bad dream.  _He_  was there. He was pulling at my clothes and kissing me," whispered Jane.

Sherlock clenched his teeth every time Jane mentioned him. She didn't need to say his name, Sherlock already knew she was talking about him. About Sam Sawyer.

"Did he force you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What happened then?"

Jane sobbed and Sherlock made a mental note to call Mycroft and ask him to send some hit men to the States, find Sam Sawyer and kill him in the cruellest and painfully way ever known.

"He didn't want to use a condom. I told him I could get pregnant, but he said everything was going to be fine, that he wasn't going to ejaculate inside me and - and that I was going to enjoy it."

Sherlock didn't say anything. He kept on rubbing Jane's back in a reassuringly way.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

Jane looked away. "Once."

"Tell me."

"No."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"You will hate me."

Sherlock took her hand and kissed it. "I told you I will never hate you. Please, Jane."

Jane's eyes darkened as she remembered that day in which she experienced Sam's jealousy for the first time.

"Do you remember that day you were working on the cigarettes ashes?"

Sherlock nodded.

"I was at his place. We were..." Jane looked into Sherlock's eyes, somehow asking for his permission to say what she was about to say. "We were together on his bed and I..."

"You were having sex," finished Sherlock and Jane nodded.

"My phone went off and I took it, thinking it was my mum, I don't know. He knew it was you, and while he was inside me he told me to tell you to fuck off. I told him not to talk like that about you and he started doing it hard and... it hurt me."

"What did he say?"

Jane shook her head. "He didn't say anything else -"

"You're lying. He told you something."

Jane bit her lip. She knew she couldn't lie to Sherlock, he was very clever and he could tell when someone was lying.

"He... he started doing it hard, and it was hurting me. I told him not to talk about you in that way because you were my friend and to stop it because I was in pain, and he said you were a queer, that you'd never get to do what he was doing to me - he was jealous of you."

"You thought so."

"You were my friend -"

"No," said Sherlock, cutting Jane off. "You thought I was gay."

"You never showed any interest in girls - I know it's wrong -"

"What happened later?"

"I didn't say anything. I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so sorry, I should have said something -"

He kissed her, softly.

"Please Sherlock, promise me you won't hurt me," asked Jane, crying.

"Never will I hurt you. Never will I let anyone hurt you."

* * *

The days passed by, and soon it was time for Jane to have her ultrasound done. Both walked into the clinic holding their hands and soon Jane was lying on a stretcher and next to her was Sherlock holding her hand and waiting to see his baby.

"Good morning, Mrs Holmes. How have you been?"

Jane smiled at her doctor. "Good. The morning sickness has gone now."

"Good. It is expected to partially disappear at this stage of the pregnancy. I guess you want to see your baby, don't you?" asked the doctor looking at Jane and Sherlock.

Both nodded eagerly. Of course they wanted to see the baby, hear the heartbeats and of course, confirm their own suspicions the baby was a baby boy.

"Let's see, shall we?"

The doctor placed the transducer on her belly, not without putting on some special gel to perform the ultrasound. Sherlock sat next to Jane. Both were holding their hands and looking at the screen close to them. Their baby was there, and while then doctor pointed at the heart, the tiny fingers and the head, Jane started crying.

But the doctor frowned, and Sherlock noted it.

"What's wrong?"

"The heartbeats indicates the baby is healthy. The rhythm is good."

"But? There must be a reason why you're still doing the ultrasound even though you have already taken down your notes and printed the scan."

Jane started panicking and the doctor looked at Sherlock, surprised by his tone of voice.

"The baby is fine. It's slightly smaller than expected at this stage of the pregnancy. I can't tell the gender yet. Its moving and I can't see it properly because of the legs. But your baby is very healthy, Mr Holmes. You don't need to worry."

The doctor finished the appointment by checking on Jane's blood pressure, checking on her weight and answering common questions Jane had. She mostly asked her doctor things such as what kind of food she was allowed to eat, if she could go on walks now, and about the slightly pain she was experiencing on her breasts. The doctor told her she could eat whatever she wanted, but obviously controlling herself if she didn't want to put on too much weight. The doctor also approved on going out and have walks, but Jane was warned to take things slowly, and that the pain she was experiencing was normal due to her breasts were preparing themselves for breastfeeding.

"Sixteen weeks then. I'll see you again in a couple of weeks, Mrs and Mr Holmes. Please, do not hesitate calling me if something is wrong or if you have a doubt," said the doctor as he handed Jane a print of her latest scan.

After they were given the picture of their baby, both walked back to town. It wasn't a cold day, but Sherlock gave Jane his scarf and tied it on her neck. She closed her eyes when she felt Sherlock's distinctive perfume and Sherlock turned the collar of his long coat up.

"You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"You," said Jane as she pointed at his face. "being all mysterious with your... cheekbones and turning your collar up so you look cool."

"I don't do that."

Jane took his hand. "Yes you do. And you do that because you know I love it."

Jane placed both hands on his shoulders and kissed him softly. It was the first time they were kissing in public, the first time they were kissing outside their room and it felt... good. Sherlock looked at Jane's closed eyes and closed his own, feeling how sweet, warm her lips felt against his own and hugged her waist. They didn't care the people passing by, no one stopped to look at them and they didn't stop kissing either.

When Jane broke the kiss Sherlock pouted and she laughed, promising him she was going to do more than kissing in a few hours.

They continued walking on the streets with their hands glued together and their fingers entwined when Jane spotted a nursery store. Her blue eyes expressed how excited she was for the baby and Sherlock was determined to accomplish all her wishes. He wanted to see her happy. He wanted both, Jane and their baby to be happy.

"Do you mind if I go in for a bit? It won't be long, I promise," said Jane as she pointed at the store on the opposite street. Sherlock smiled and just took her hand and soon both were inside.

Jane just thought Sherlock wouldn't like to go with her. He knew Sherlock didn't like babies and kid that much, but the moment when he smiled at her and walked with her to the shop, that moment made Jane feel happy. Her eyes shone with excitement when she looked at the cribs, the baby clothes, the push-trolleys, pillows, stuffed animals and all sorts of things for babies and mothers too.

"Mum said I need to start getting these kind of stuffs."

Sherlock looked at the different kinds of cribs and strollers. "Why are there so many types? It's only to put a baby inside."

Jane laughed when they were approached by a sales girl. She seemed to be as young as they were, but she was very kind.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh no, thank you. We were just looking -"

"Be useful and show us some of these," Sherlock pointed at the cribs, but he couldn't find the proper word. "These things."

The sales girl nodded. "Cribs? Sure, follow me this way."

Both followed the girl and they were quickly surrounded by countless cribs. There was an entire room in the shop full of cribs of all sorts, small, big, black, white, single, double and circular ones.

"I'll let you alone so you can take a look. If you need anything, please don't hesitate and ask me."

Jane smiled at her. "Sure. Thank you."

Sherlock walked a few steps and looked one which caught his eye. It was a very big one made of dark wooden panels and it was big enough for two babies. "This one should work."

"Yeah, if we have twins. You couldn't have been politer, could you?"

"If you're talking about the sales girl, then we shouldn't start this discussion again. I won't change the way I talk to people who are hired to serve me," said Sherlock as he continued examining the crib.

Jane sighed tiredly and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, what are we looking for, Sherlock?"

"A crib."

"Oh God, I thought we were looking for socks."

"Oh, remind me to add 'sarcasm' to the list of pregnancy symptoms, will you?"

Jane didn't say anything.

"You said we needed to get these things."

"Yes, but we don't even have a place to live."

"Choose one."

"What?"

Sherlock took Jane's hand and both walked through the sales room, looking at several cribs. Every time Jane pointed at one, Sherlock shook his head. Every time he suggested one, Jane would told him it was far too small or far too big.

"I don't like them. They look like boxes. Why can't babies sleep on beds?"

"They just can't."

"And can ours sleep with us?"

Jane smiled at him. "I'll tell you something. Wait until the baby's born and try to make it sleep between us on our bed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Babies can't sleep on beds, Sherlock. And ours will definitely have a crib."

After a few minutes Jane showed Sherlock the one she really liked.

"I like this one, but it's too expensive."

Sherlock looked at it carefully. Jane was really confused, he seemed to be thinking deeply about the crib while looking at it, as if he was picturing it somewhere. "This one will do," said Sherlock and called the sales girl. "We're taking this one. Take my card."

"No, Sherlock! We can't afford it!"

"For God's sake, it's only a three thousand pounds crib, it's not -"

"It's too expensive!"

The sales girl appeared again and Sherlock looked at her like questioning her reasons to be there, in the middle of a little argument with Jane.

"Where do you want us to send it, Sir?"

"221 B Baker Street, please."


	24. Amsterdam

That day Sherlock and Jane got not only a nice crib for their baby but lots of clothes as well. Jane couldn't stop herself when she glanced at the baby boy's section in the shop. Jane insisted on getting a nice pair of blue tees with the famous inscription 'My daddy is the best' and Sherlock couldn't stop her.

After a few hours, they finally left the nursery store. They got everything they thought they needed for their baby such as clothes, bottles, a baby bag, furniture and toys too.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes, why you ask? I'm pregnant, I'm not..." Jane looked into Sherlock's eyes and nodded. "OK, I admit it. I'm hungry. I feel like I can eat a horse. Can we stop at Mc Donald's -"

"You're not eating there."

"Why not?"

"I won't let you eat there. That's not food," replied Sherlock and after a quick walk, both were inside Angelo's looking for their usual table next to the window.

"Hello Angelo."

The Italian man owner of the restaurant almost melted at the sight of Sherlock, his savour and favourite client holding hands with Jane.

"Mamma mia, Sherlock!" said the man as he approached them.

"Hi," said Jane, shyly.

"Everything for you and your date."

Before Angelo left them, Sherlock correct him. "She's not my date. She's my wife."

"Felicitazioni! May you excuse my question Mrs Holmes, are you pregnant?"

Jane giggled. She looked into Sherlock's eyes and nodded.

"Then, everything for you, your wife and your baby!"

Both asked for pasta and ate in silence. Sherlock noted Jane's started eating more, clearly she was craving for more food which was not only for her but for the baby as well.

"Can I have some cake?." asked Jane as she looked at the menu once again. "Chocolate cake sounds good."

Angelo himself brought her a generous slice of chocolate cake and a cup of tea. Sherlock watched her eating and curled his lips every time Jane ate and closed her eyes, feeling the pleasure of chocolate. One of the many things Jane craved for since he came back was chocolate. She adored chocolate cookies, cakes, and milkshakes as well.

"How are you feeling?" asked Sherlock as soon as Jane finished eating and drank all her tea all at once.

"I feel like I'm going to explode at any minute. I'm fat."

"You're not fat. You are pregnant."

Jane twisted her lips. "Will you love me even when I looked like a fat cow after the baby's born?"

"Yes."

"Will you love me when my belly is nothing but flaccid skin?"

"Yes."

"And will you love me when my breasts -"

"I will always love you, it doesn't matter if you're fat or not. Let's go now, we have an appointment."

She stood up from her chair and both left the restaurant not before thanking Angelo for the tasty food. The Italian man made them promise they would visit him again soon and that they would keep him updated with baby news.

"Where are we going?"

Sherlock hailed a cab and opened the door for Jane to get in and told the cabbie the address where they were going.

"221 B Baker Street, please."

"What's at Baker Street? Are we visiting some family of yours?"

Sherlock smiled at Jane. She was yawning and he knew she needed to take a nap soon. "You'll see."

As soon as they arrived Jane yawned one more time and looked at the place with very sleepy eyes. "This place looks nice."

Sherlock rang the bell. "Mrs Hudson the landlady offered me a special deal. She owes me a favour. A few weeks ago her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out."

"You stopped her husband from being executed?"

"Oh, no. I ensured it."

"All of that happened when you left to Korea?"

"It's a long story," said Sherlock as an old lady opened the door and threw her arms around Sherlock's neck. "Mrs Hudson."

"Hello Sherlock. Are you here to see the flat?"

"Yes."

Mrs Hudson opened the door and let both in.

"She's my wife, Jane," said Sherlock as he stepped in and took Jane's hand.

The old lady seemed to be surprised by the fact they were so young and that they were already married. Soon, her old eyes migrated downwards to her pregnant belly and the lady smiled, tenderly.

"My, you never told me you were married and expecting a baby!"

"I'm sorry. You don't accept babies, do you?" asked Jane, worried.

Mrs Hudson shook her head. "Oh no dear, it's OK! I'd accept everything for Sherlock. He saved my life!"

"Merely moved a finger. Shall we?"

The three of them made their way upstairs.

"Well, what do you think?"

Jane looked at her surroundings. The place was nice, it looked cosy and she could picture their baby growing up there, crawling on the soft carpet under her feet. The sitting room had two big windows, a fireplace, two armchairs, one big sofa and bookshelves already filled with books. There were a few boxes filled with things she couldn't quite say what they were.

"We can move in as soon as we clean this rubbish -"

"I already moved some things -"

Jane looked at Sherlock. "These are your things?"

"I can have all our things taken here in an hours or so."

Mrs Hudson started straightening things up. "There's another bedroom upstairs. You can have it painted and changed it into a nursery room."

"That would be very nice. Very nice indeed, thank you, Mrs Hudson."

"Have you cleaned the rooms? The shops will deliver some furniture and things we've got," said Sherlock while moving the box full of books off one of the soft armchairs, so Jane could sit down and rest.

Jane smiled at him and sat down.

"Yes dear. Are you moving in today? I'll need you to complete some paperwork," said Mrs Hudson addressing her words to Sherlock and then turned to face Jane. "You sit and rest, Jane. I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Thank you. Some cookies too, please, if you have them!"

"Just this one dear, I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper!"

Mrs Hudson prepared them tea and left them alone. Jane and Sherlock walked around the flat together, looking at the kitchen, the view from the windows in the sitting room, the bathroom, the room upstairs and the room close to the kitchen which was going to be their room.

"Do you like it?"

Jane smiled. "It's lovely, perfect. Are you sure you can pay for this? I've some savings -"

"We don't need to worry about that. I already paid for a whole year. Mycroft is doing the paperwork, though."

"I thought you didn't like asking him favours."

Sherlock nodded. "As I'm not eighteen I can't sign the papers of this flat, yet. Though my inheritance is already at our disposal."

Sherlock gave Jane a series of credit and debit cards. Despite Jane's refusal, she had to take them. She knew Sherlock's family was very, very wealthy. She had witnessed and lived with them enough time to know they had enough money to buy an island or two or most of the country if they wanted to.

"But I can't just use your money, it's not fair."

"Can we stop talking about money? We have more interesting things to talk about."

"Yeah, if we're moving today or tomorrow we'll need to do the shopping, get milk, sugar, some cookies and -"

Sherlock placed both hands on her waist. "I'm not talking about food, I'm talking about this." He kissed her passionately and soon Jane was kissing him back.

Jane surrendered and after a few minutes Sherlock was pressing her against the wall, kissing her passionately and needy. She placed her arms around his neck and Sherlock lifted one of her legs, moving it to his hips. Soon Jane felt Sherlock's erection pressed against her body and she moaned.

"Sher, Mrs Hudson can come in."

"I've locked the door."

They continued kissing feverishly, passionately until Jane broke the kiss and took a deep breath.

Sherlock frowned. "Are you OK?"

"I'm not feeling well and I'm tired," said Jane as she placed a hand on her belly.

He noted the sadness in Jane's eyes and he caressed her round cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"You want to have sex and I can't - I'm sorry."

Sherlock hugged her tightly. They already had that discussion. There had been nights or moments in the day when he was kissing her and pressing her against the nearest solid thing and Jane was apologising for her lack of desire or for her tiredness. Sherlock obviously accepted the fact they couldn't make love as much as he wanted because Jane was fragile, she was tired and because she was carrying their son.

"It's OK -"

"It's not OK, Sherlock. You're frustrated, I know you are. I can finish you off -" said Jane as she started to pull at Sherlock's trousers and kneeling.

Sherlock stopped her and kissed her again, but softly this time. "I'm not  _him_. I am not going to force you."

Jane told Sherlock all the times Sam wanted to have sex with her and she didn't want to. With tears in her eyes, Jane confessed Sherlock all the times and all the things she had to do just to please him. Jane also told Sherlock she did all of that because she was afraid of losing him, because after all Sam had been her first boyfriend.

Jane hugged her husband. "I love you."

"I love you as well."

The rang bell and a few minutes later they were together, holding their hands and looking at the crib in the room upstairs. Mrs Hudson had made a magnificent job cleaning the rooms, and Jane had tears in her eyes when she looked at the pristine room and the crib placed in the middle of the room. There was also a little wardrobe, some stuffed animals and all the clothes they had got for the baby had been neatly placed in the crib.

"I can't wait to have this baby, Sherlock. I just can't."

Sherlock knelt and placed both of his hands on Jane's belly, and kissed it.

"Nor can I."


	25. Low

The following day Jane and Sherlock woke up very early and got themselves ready to move to their own flat. They already talked to Mrs Holmes (Well, Jane called her), who was still abroad with Sherlock's father to tell them they found and nice place and that they were moving. Elizabeth was happy for them. She told Jane to look not only after herself and the baby but after Sherlock. She told her to take all the things she needed/wanted from their mansion and to call Mycroft if they needed anything. Jane assured her she was going to look after Sherlock and that she was going to call Mycroft if it was the case.

Soon their bed, their mattress, a small table, their books, their things and their clothes were moved to Baker Street and Sherlock even told two of the maids of his house to go with them so they could put all their things into their place because Jane wasn't able to do it.

"I can manage, Sherlock!"

"Of course you can't. But the doctor told you you can start walking slowly, not to lift boxes and books."

Reluctantly Jane followed Sherlock's instructions and she spent the entire day sitting on the sofa looking how the maids placed their books into the bookshelves and how they folded and put their clothes into their right place. It was late when they sat together and looked at the place. It was finally their flat and their house. On the mantelpiece Sherlock placed his skull and some framed pictures of the day of their wedding. The sitting room had their desk and two chairs, two comfy armchairs and a sofa. The bookshelves were filled with Sherlock's chemistry, physics and all sorts of books and Jane's pregnancy, maternity and biology books as well.

The kitchen was complete too. Mrs Hudson got them some food and Jane's favourite cookies and their fridge had enough milk for at least a week.

"You are tired. Let's go to sleep."

"I want to take a look at the baby's room. I'm sure the maids did a great job, but I want to see how it looks like before going to bed," said Jane as she started climbing up the stairs.

Sherlock followed her and smiled when he saw the look on Jane's face. The room looked just like she wanted it to. The walls were white and they needed to have them painted, but the furniture was on its right place, the baby clothes were perfectly folded and put into their place and the crib already had a mattress and it was covered with some stuffed animals.

"Oh my God."

"I was told we still need to get more things. But I'm sure our mothers will be in charge of that as soon as -"

Jane cut Sherlock off with a passionate kiss. "It's perfect, Sherlock. It's just perfect. Thank you. I know I never say this as much as I have to, but  _thank you_."

"There's nothing you have to thank me for."

"Yes there is," said Jane as she rested her back on the doorframe. "This baby is not yours, Sherlock. I mean, it's yours, you're going to be his father, but  _he_  won't have your blood. He won't be as clever as you are. God, he won't even look like you. He won't have your precious curls or your gray eyes - I'm so sorry."

Sherlock embraced Jane's figure and kissed her forehead. He didn't say anything for a long moment, until Jane started sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

"Jane, I don't care if he doesn't look like me. I don't even care whether he has my blood or not. What I care for is you and him, other things are meaningless to me."

Jane cried again and Sherlock hugged her tightly. It had been long weeks since the last time Jane mentioned something like that.

As much as Sherlock wished he had been Jane's first man, Jane's boyfriend and the biological father of her baby, he was more than happy he'd got the opportunity to marry Jane, to finally love her and be loved by her, and to become a father.

As much as Sherlock wished things were different, he didn't want to change anything. Because somehow, things were better that way.

Somehow.

"You're tired. Let's go to bed."

"We'll christen the flat one of these days, right?" asked Jane with a grin.

Sherlock kissed her forehead and covered their bodies with a tick duvet. "Mrs Hudson has a knitting night next Friday."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"Are you sure she's gone?"

Sherlock kissed her again, not leaving her lips as he started to undo the buttons of her jeans. "Five minutes ago."

The first place chosen was their room. Sherlock had Jane pressed against one of their bare walls and their eyes were closed as they kissed passionately and as they tried to undress each other.

"Why you have to wear so many jumpers?"

"And why you have to wear these tight shirts with so many... buttons?"

They eventually got rid of their clothes as soon Jane was being pushed on the bed, and she was on her back and over her was Sherlock, kissing her neck as he made his way between her legs. He carried on kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly and her tights.

Sherlock rubbed Jane's clitoris and explored her using her fingers. Jane melted under his touch.

"Ahhh Sherlock."

"Do you like it?"

Jane sighed. "I love it."

Sherlock made Jane roll on the bed until she was in all fours. They has tried so many positions and this one was the one they liked because Sherlock had the control he liked and the penetration increased. Another pro was the fact he wasn't going to press all his body weight on Jane's belly.

He introduced a finger into her and Jane moaned, loudly.

"Please, Sherlock. Make me yours."

"Your words are orders to me, love."

When Sherlock sunk into her, Jane panted his name countless times. Sherlock wasn't being kind this time. After so many nights and making love all day long too, he was now convinced he wasn't hurting her or the baby. So Sherlock filled her with one long thrust and moved in and out, quickly, harder.

"Ahhh yes."

"You feel so good, so tight," moaned Sherlock and he kissed her bare back, between her shoulder blades.

His hands, which had been firmly on her hips soon migrated to her back, then to her belly and to her breasts. He played with her nipples as he kissed her back and moaned countless promises of love.

"Yes Sherlock, like that. Take me harder."

Sherlock did as he was told. "I wish I could... do this to you... all the time."

"Me too, you - ahhh... your cock, Sherlock."

He grinned as he thrust into her harder, faster. "You like it?"

"Stop talking... your voice is so hot."

Sherlock continued exploring her body with her hands.

"Your body is perfect."

He hugged her waist and with a quick movement, he fell back, but using his arms he brought Jane with him, so this time she was sitting on his hips and he was completely inside her.

Jane turned her head a bit to look at Sherlock and stated moving up and down, up and down. Sherlock's left hand was on her hip and his right hand was on her belly. "Fuck Sherlock, I can feel every inch of you."

"I know," replied Sherlock with a sigh and he continued moving hips hips, helping Jane to move up and down, increasing the friction of their bodies.

"Your cock... so - big."

Sherlock kissed her neck. He really loved their dirty talking. It was the only when they were making love when they got to talk that way. Sherlock knew in any other situation Jane would have been too embarrassed to said what she just said.

"You like this?" asked Sherlock as his thrusts slowed, but they were painfully hard.

Jane closed her eyes, tightly. "Yes."

"Or you want me to do it faster," Sherlock tightened his grip of her hips. "like this."

Sherlock started to move her body up and down, quite faster. Now he was completely inside her, hard. Jane's breasts were bouncing too, and there was sweat on her forehead. God, she loved it. She loved when Sherlock had control over her when they were making love. It was something Jane liked it and she knew Sherlock liked as well.

There was a moment when Jane fell on her front and pressed both of her palms on the mattress. Sherlock continued pounding hard and fast into her.

"Sherlock... oh my - fuck me harder!"

He obviously did as he was told until both orgasmed together.

"That... was the best sex of my life. Ever," said Jane. Both were lying on the bed, with their heads on their pillows.

Sherlock tossed to kiss her. "Obviously."

Jane was still catching her breath when she felt a strange pain thorough her stomach. She shut her eyes tightly and sighed.

"Sherlock."

"Are you OK?"

She nodded. "I think so, yes."

"Should I call your doctor, or -"

"No, no - it's fine. I'm fine," she placed a hand on her stomach. "I think... I think the baby is kicking."

Sherlock placed a hand on Jane's belly and waited. A few seconds later, he felt something moving under his touch. Their baby was  _kicking_.

After so many days waiting for this to happen, their baby was kicking. The feel of that little life inside her, moving, showing how much alive he was, that was what made Jane happy, completely excited and proud. She felt happy she could give them a baby. Even though the baby was a product of a mistake, the product of a fake love she thought Sam felt for her, Jane was happy she got to have a family with Sherlock.

"He's kicking," agreed Sherlock and he sat and stared at her belly. He ran a hand over it and he felt more kicks!

"I'm on -"

"You're seventeen weeks pregnant today."

Jane frowned. "How do you know?"

"I'm your husband and the father, am I not?"

"Of course you are. I just - I didn't expect you to keep an exact track of my pregnancy."

Sherlock kissed her pregnant bump softly. "Why? Because I'm cold, indifferent with other people's children you thought I was going to act the same with  _ours_?"

"It's just... I don't understand how a man can love a baby who isn't his."

Soon Jane's eyes were full of tears. And Sherlock cuddled her and kissed her softly.

"The baby you're carrying inside you is as much mine as it's yours."

"I know."

Jane fell asleep thinking how lucky she was. She had the best husband, companion, friend everyone can ask for. Sherlock was not only her best friend but the man she loved with all her heart. Jane also had two wonderful families, the Holmes and her mother and her sister. Jane had a landlady who was a sweetheart. Jane had a baby inside her and she couldn't wait to meet  _him_ , to have it in her arms.

Jane thought her life was as perfect as a fairytale.

But fairytales are not always fairytales. Love is not always love, and happiness is not always endless.

Fate had other plans for them.

Nothing lasts forever.


	26. Major Minus

A few days after they had finally settled down in 221 B Baker Street, Jane and Sherlock also settled down into a new routine. Whilst Jane liked to spend most of the time reading maternity books, Sherlock developed a new love for the kitchen table. The poor table was now full of petri dishes and the lab equipment Sherlock moved from his own house. Jane didn't mind that much, the only thing she insisted on was on keep Mrs Hudson's furniture safe because if Sherlock was ruining something, they would have to pay for the damages.

They also settled into a routine in which Mrs Hudson liked to surprise them with breakfast every now and then. Sherlock liked her food, but Jane insisted she had to cook, because after all Mrs Hudson was right. She was their landlady, not their housekeeper.

But soon the bubble where Jane thought their lives where developing into exploded when Greg Lestrade decided he needed Sherlock once again.

"This place is rather nice, Jane."

She smiled at her mother's boyfriend and handed him a cup of tea. "Thanks for visiting. How's my mother?"

The D.I told Jane he had moved and now he was living with Suzanne. Had this happened a few months ago, Jane would have hated the idea of her mother's boyfriend moving in with her. But now, maybe with the wisdom of the years or maybe it was because of the pregnancy, Jane was really happy for her mother. Another factor was her father's blessing. When Mr Watson returned from Iraq, Jane herself heard it coming from his lips. He was very happy Suzanne had someone who was making her happy.

"Is Sherlock here?"

"He's taking a shower. Are you here to offer him a case?"

Greg nodded. "Sort of. It's an easy one, though. He'll get bored, but it will help if he wants to work in the criminal department."

After solving the case of the pink lady, Sherlock, without really asking, had been behind Greg insisting his brain and his deductive skills would be quite useful in the criminal division of the Scotland Yard. Greg obviously rejected the idea, he was merely a teenager, but now he had got married to Jane and that they were starting a new life and tat he wasn't a teenager anymore, Greg considered the idea. It was childish, but at least Sherlock would be working and earning some money (he didn't need it, he was very rich) and obviously, helping Greg to fight against crime.

"How come?"

"Well, if he proves he can solve these cases we have, well, I might get some thumbs up and he'll be able to work with me."

"That's amazing. It's just what he needs."

Greg sipped more of his tea. "I can't promise much about the payment."

"It's OK - well, that's something you'll have to discuss with him."

Soon Sherlock appeared on the sitting room already dressed and wearing his coat and his scarf. "Address?"

"How do you -"

"I heard you."

Greg looked at Jane and then nodded. "Right. These are very easy cases - you'll get bored. But please,  _behave_ , and I'll be able to get you into my division."

"If by  _'behave'_  you mean I do have to explain myself every time I formulate my conclusions, I think I can accomplish," replied Sherlock.

"Good. Shall we go then?"

"No, text me the address. I'll follow you."

Greg thanked Jane for the tea and left not without telling her to call him if she needed anything. Jane took his hand and promised she would.

When Sherlock and Jane were left alone, he kissed her lips and then her forehead. "Call me if you need anything. I'll tell Mrs Hudson to keep an eye on you."

"I'll be fine. I have plenty of books to read. I'll bookmark some bits for you."

Sherlock nodded and left.

Jane continued reading and while the hours passed by, she got tired and fall asleep on the sofa.

* * *

"Sending an unarmed man into a trap of drugs and alcohol, Detective inspector?"

Greg bite his lip. "Listen, Sherlock. I'd never send you into somewhere where you can get killed. But I can't give you a gun and between you and me, you look like a teenager -"

"I am not a teenager!"

Greg sighed. "Okay, but I look like a cop! So get in and give them this," Greg handed Sherlock fifty pounds. "Pretend you want to buy some and -"

"Extract information, I know."

Sherlock walked two streets away from Greg's car. He was walking as he didn't know where he was when a girl in her middle twenties approached him.

"Are you lost mate?"

He looked at her from head to toes. She was pretty, conventionally beautiful anyway. She was as tall as he was and she was chewing gum. Sherlock glanced at her bare arms. She had needle marks on her left arm where she has been injecting herself - right handed. She was also wearing expensive jewelery, what suggested she came from a good background, they were not stolen. But her clothes were worn, second handed clothes. She was a girl who came from a good, wealthy background and had got into drugs. She was the one between the potential clients and the real seller.

"I'm looking for some  _snow*_."

The woman smiled at Sherlock and took his arm. Sherlock started following her steps, knowing they were going to meet the drug dealer.

Sherlock smiled inwardly. Everything was going according to the plan. Even though this first case was utterly boring, and he was being used as a bait, Sherlock enjoyed the thrilling sensation. He was about to meet a drug dealer and hopefully disband a drug network.

"How much money do you have, sweetie?"

Sherlock showed her the money. "Is it enough?"

"You're new, aren't ya?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Sort of."

She smiled at him. "I think I can pull some strings and get you something good," then she glanced at his wedding ring and twisted her mouth. "It can get you more."

"No."

"Oh, so the _wifey_  doesn't know? You look quite young to be married."

"That does not concern you."

The young woman ignored his comment and walked with him until they were facing a red door. She knocked three times, in a rather distinctive way and it was clear it was sort of a code. A well built man opened the door and let them both in.

"He's new."

The man nodded.

"Come one, sweetie. Pay him and you'll get what you want."

Sherlock gave the man the money Greg had given to him and waited. The man looked at him and smiled and then turned to the woman. "Go and fetch some. Don't forget the needle."

The woman returned with a injection and cocaine. It was a generous amount, quite generous. Sherlock frowned at this and looked at the man, waiting for an explanation.

"I know your type. And I'll know you'll be a frequent client too. Enjoy and come back when ya want."

Before Sherlock left the place, the woman who led him there squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. "See ya later, sweetie."

Sherlock walked a few steps opposite the direction he knew Greg was waiting for him. He took the needle and the bag with cocaine and glanced at it. It was  _screaming_  at him. Sherlock swore it was screaming at him, inviting him to  _taste_  it, to  _feel_  it and to see what it feels like.

"Sherlock! What are you doing here?"

Sherlock hid the things into his coat pockets. "Tommy Atkins is your man. Arrest him or if you want to be careful, call your police men."

The wrapped up the case a few hours later. It was late, but Lestrade's team managed to arrest most of the drug dealers of that part of town and they had got more than fifty kilos of cocaine.

Greg was completing paperwork when he told Sherlock he could go back home.

"Jane must be missing you."

"Why drugs, Lestrade? I thought your division only arrested criminals," asked Sherlock as he glanced at the table full of bags of cocaine.

"We do, but those dealers don't sell drugs only. They were known for kidnapping and killing people - a complete criminal network, I tell you. Thanks for getting into that place, by the way. I'm warning you," said Greg as he pointed at him with his pen, "This'll be on the papers tomorrow, don't get angry at me if you don't see your name."

"Why would I want to see my name printed on the papers?"

"Never mind. Go home, tell Jane thanks."

"What for?"

"Forget it. Good night."

On the way back to Baker Street, Sherlock played with the needle and the cocaine he had. He thought it might come useful for his experiments.

Or maybe  _he_  can be the experiment.

He had read about drugs in school. He had even heard about them on telly. It wasn't like Sherlock didn't know drugs were bad. But inside his mind, what can be distinguished as bad, wrong or good? Sherlock's mind was in the crossroads where he knew he might get ill or hurt by using drugs.

Or he might get cleverer.

Sherlock thought he might get powerful. Flawless.

When Sherlock got home, he found Jane deeply asleep on their bed. He kissed her forehead and changed his clothes. There was a note on the kitchen table.

_"There's food in the fridge._

_Love,_

_Jane XXX"_

Sherlock wasn't hungry. He was euphoric. It had been his first case, and even though it was boring, predictable, he felt in the need for something.

He looked at the bag with the white powder and the needle.

Without thinking properly, Sherlock prepared the injection and the cocaine.

Before doing what he knew was a mistake, Sherlock remembered the latest months then the day he met Jane, when he deduced all about her limp, when he went to her house for the first time. Those were good days. He remembered braiding Jane's soft hair, sharing endless hours revising literature. Jane had always been sweet, and she always cared. But when Sam appeared, everything, all the world he had built with Jane turned upside down. She wasn't with him anymore. His experiments with tobacco ashes didn't excite her anymore. And the day he looked at her and deduced she had given her body to Sam Sawyer, that day he felt his heart was broken in countless pieces.

And that night she called him asking for his help, Sherlock ran the six street which got them apart. And when she told him she might be pregnant, he never hesitated. He knew Sam Sawyer left to never come back.

Without really wanting, Sherlock thought Jane was with him because she needed him. He thought Jane didn't love him as much as she said she did. Maybe she was living a fantasy. She was young, she was as young as he was, but what if she was confused? What if Jane wanted him as a friend only? What if some day Jane woke up realising it was all a mistake?

Sherlock closed his eyes as soon as he felt the cocaine running through his veins. And it felt  _exquisite_. It was  _perfect_. It was  _amazing_. The sensation was the  _best_.

Sherlock fall on the sofa. His pupils were dilated. He placed a hand on his chest and he felt his heart beating quickly. Everything was clear now. Sherlock looked at the sitting room and enumerated all the things Jane had done in the day. She had varnished her fingernails. She not only read a maternity book but a novel as well. She cooked risotto and she even brushed her hair while watching telly.

Mental clarity.

His observational and deductive skills worked better. His eyes were moving from one place to another frantically. For more than fifteen minutes, Sherlock felt like a God.

He felt flawless, until he threw the injection under the sofa and fell on the floor.

* * *

"Sher... Sherlock... are you OK?"

When Sherlock opened his eyes, Jane was kneeling next to him. She looked worried, and for a minute Sherlock thought she knew.

"I'm fine. Where am I?"

Jane giggled. "Home? How was it?"

"How was what?"

"The case. Was it good?"

Sherlock let out a heavy sigh and stood up. He looked at the floor, looking for the evidence. Looking for the bag of cocaine and the needle. He needed to find it before Jane, before anyone.

"What about it?" asked Sherlock, sharply.

Jane frowned, confused. "I was just asking. I'll make you some coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"Tea then?"

"No."

Jane returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on. "You need to eat something, Sherlock."

"I don't want to eat."

"Why don't you come here and have tea -"

"I said I don't want to eat! Is it that difficult to understand?" yelled Sherlock, angrily, exasperated. He didn't really thought the way he was talking to Jane. Neither he considered the high tone of his voice.

Jane didn't turn. She continued staring at the empty mug on the counter as she felt Sherlock walking past her, going straight to their room and slamming the door behind his back.

"I'm sorry," muttered Jane as she poured some hot water on her mug, and as she felt tears falling down her eyes.

That morning, Jane had breakfast alone in the kitchen. She ignored Sherlock's mood, his angry words and his high one of voice. It was the first time he was talking to her in that way, so angry, so sharply. Jane thought that maybe Sherlock was too tired and worried, concentrated and focused on getting the job with Lestrade and she was being too annoying.

She ignored it and continued reading more maternity books.

The hours passed by and the door of their room remained closed. Jane didn't want to go in, not even to change her clothes or ask Sherlock what was wrong.

When she started making lunch, Sherlock came out their room and softly walked until he was behind Jane. He hugged her, placing both arms around her waist and then he rested his hands on her growing belly. Jane startled a bit, he appeared so out of the blue in the kitchen. She felt his damp curls against the curve of her neck and closed her eyes.

Sherlock kissed her cheek. "I love you."

Jane just ignored his yelling. Maybe she shouldn't have.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow*: slang for cocaine.
> 
> Users of cocaine experience feelings of restlessness, irritability, and anxiety. They also might experience: blood vessels; dilated pupils; and increased temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure, bizarre, erratic, and violent behavior, tremors, vertigo, muscle twitches, paranoia, or, with repeated doses, a toxic reaction closely resembling amphetamine poisoning. Some users of cocaine report feelings of restlessness, irritability, and anxiety.


	27. Twisted Logic

Sherlock continued injecting himself every other day. He didn't have a preference when it was about time. He didn't mind the situation as well. But he liked to do it before going to bed. It was the moment when Jane was deeply asleep, so was their landlady and he had all the freedom to do whatever he wanted to do. Most of the times he would develop strange experiments or climb the roof. The view was good. He liked to walk on the edge. Sherlock liked to feel the air on his toes and imagine he could fly, that he could fly far away.

The cocaine helped while solving cases. The effects were quick. Immediately after injecting himself, Sherlock had fifteen to thirty minutes of ecstasy, pure pleasure. The feeling of supremacy was overwhelming. The increasing sense of energy and alertness was what he needed. But when it was out of his system and when the anxiety, the irritability and the paranoia started to grow inside him, that was the moment when Sherlock cried and wished he hadn't tasted cocaine. He would splash water on his face to calm down and he would promise to himself he would stop, that the following day he would throw the cocaine left and that he would forget he ever injected himself.

But the following day he was waiting for Jane to go to bed and inject himself one more time.

A few weeks later Sherlock got himself included into D.I Greg Lestrade's Criminal Division. The payment was good, not like he was earning lots of money, but it was something. Actually, he didn't need the money. He had enough to live at least twenty lifetimes. But Greg insisted normal people with normal jobs earned money.

Sherlock had a weird work schedule. Criminals didn't seem to take a day off. And they liked to attack at deadly hours.

Within five minutes after a phone call or a text, Sherlock was already getting ready to leave.

"Mmm, come back safe, 'K?" mumbled Jane when she felt Sherlock getting off their bed.

Sherlock was high.

This time Sherlock only had to take a look at a very boring crime scene. A woman found dead with a tie tightly tied round her neck.

" _Jealous_  husband."

The cocaine was still working.

"Go home, we can catch him. Sergeant Smith already found the husband."

Without saying a word, Sherlock left the crime scene and wandered round the dark, cold streets of London until he found what he was looking for.

"Looks like it will  _snow*_  soon, don't you think?"

Sherlock glanced at the young man. He was young, maybe in his early thirties. Drug dealer.

"Looking forward to it."

"Peter," said the strange man as he extended his hand. Sherlock glanced at it. This man wasn't only offering his hand, he was offering cocaine.

Sherlock took some money off his wallet and shook the man's hand. They exchanged the cocaine and the money and without saying a word, 'Peter' left.

When Sherlock came back to Baker Street, Jane was still sleeping. Being extremely careful, Sherlock put the cocaine and the needle into a box and then he placed it at the top of their wardrobe, the place he knew Jane will never look at because she was short and she would never reach it.

However, the days passed by and it was a cold morning when Jane woke him up very early in the morning. Sherlock has never been a person fond of sleeping at nights, but this time he needed it. He had injected himself a high dose the previous night and he needed to sleep enough to get it out his system.

"What?"

He looked at her. Jane was fully dressed. She was wearing a pair of jeans, one of her jumpers and her dark coat.

"We need to go to the doctor's. I have an appointment with my new doctor at Bart's."

Sherlock tossed to his side. " _You_  have the appointment. Not  _me_."

"But you always come with me and maybe today the doctor can tell us the gender of the baby."

"Go alone."

Jane frowned. Sherlock have always gone with her, he had gone to all of her appointments with her doctor and to all of her ultrasounds. This was strange.

And  _painful_  at the same time.

"I'll be a bit late, I'm going to visit the university campus."

Sherlock didn't say anything, he just tossed to his side and closed his eyes. Jane covered Sherlock's sleepy body with the duvet and kissed his forehead. Then, she took her purse and her mobile phone and left.

The doctor told her she was fine and that the baby was fine. She was twenty one weeks pregnant now and the new doctor couldn't tell the gender of the baby.

"Are you alone?"

Jane nodded a bit sadly. "My husband couldn't make it this time."

The doctor smiled tenderly. "Okay. I'll print you a copy of the scan for him, shall I?"

"Yes please, I know he'll love it."

"Your baby is very healthy. A bit smaller than expected, though."

"Is that bad?"

"A bit," said the doctor as she wrote down her notes. "But you're very young, and it might be probably because of your uterus. You're seventeen, right?"

"Yes. I'll turn eighteen soon."

"It's because of that, then. Just take care of yourself, eat healthily and try to stay calm. I'm sure you've heard the saying what the mother feels, the baby feels it as well."

Jane nodded. "Countless times."

"You're twenty two weeks pregnant. Once you've reached the thirty weeks, I'd like you to spend a few days here in hospital -"

"Is something wrong with my baby?" asked Jane, cutting the doctor off.

"Not at all. The thing is," said the doctor as she looked down at the printed scan. "you're too young and your uterus is too small for the baby. It is expected the uterus expands itself to give the baby more room to grow up, but yours is doing it quite slowly. You'll have to come here and stay for a few days so we can examine you and your baby properly."

Jane looked down at her wedding ring, wishing Sherlock could be with her right now.

"But my baby will be fine, right?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, your baby will be fine."

Jane was given the printed copy of her scan for Sherlock and she settled the day for her next appointment and ultrasound.

"I'll see you in a couple of weeks then, Mrs Holmes. If you need anything, don't hesitate and come to see me."

"Thank you, doctor."

After her appointment with her new doctor, Jane went to the campus. She collected a lot of information about the Bart's medical course and she even got quite excited about it. She wanted to study there, the place was nice and it was close to Baker Street. She knew it was going to be difficult after the baby was born, but Sherlock promised her they would work it out together.

Jane completed some paperwork and enrolled herself. She knew she was going to work hard. Being a mother and studying at the same time surely could be hard, but she was ready for everything.

Or that's what she thought.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can take the tube?" asked a young man. He was as young as Jane was. He was taller than her and he seemed to be kind. He had brownish hair and dark eyes.

"Sure. Um, walk two streets this way and turn to your right."

The young man nodded and glanced at the leaflets and papers in Jane's hands. "Are you going to study here?"

"What? Oh, yes. Just enrolled myself. You?"

The young man smiled. "Me too. I heard it's a good place. I want to be a doctor."

"Me too," said Jane and smiled.

"Bill Murray."

The young man extended his hand and Jane shook it politely.

"Jane Holmes, nice to meet you."

"Can I invite you a coffee?" asked Bill, then his eyes moved downwards to her pregnant belly. "Sorry. Tea maybe?"

Jane looked down at her watch. She knew Sherlock was quite sleepy when she woke him up, and he lately liked to sleep until late. Why not?

"Sure."

* * *

When Jane opened the door 221 Baker Street, she found a very scared Mrs Hudson.

"Jane, how good you're here. Please go and ask Sherlock to stop playing the violin. Not like I don't like it but it's been a few hours..."

Jane nodded. "Of course, Mrs Hudson. I'm sorry."

"Thanks dear, I don't like asking Sherlock, but I have to take my nap. That boy has been playing since very early."

"Don't worry Mrs Hudson. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Jane made her way upstairs and found Sherlock playing the violin. He was facing the window.

"Sherlock, can you stop playing for a bit? Mrs Hudson needs to take her nap," asked Jane, softly.

He immediately stopped and Jane showed him the newest scan. "The new doctor printed a copy for you. Look at our baby!"

Jane offered Sherlock the scan. She was so excited and she couldn't wait to see Sherlock's reaction. He liked to look at all her scans and compare them, calculate how much their baby have grown and so on.

But Sherlock only glanced at it. He didn't even took it off Jane's hand to take a proper look. This made Jane wonder if she had made something wrong. If she had done something to annoy Sherlock this much. He looked utterly annoyed, exasperated.

"Who is  _him_?"

Jane frowned, confused. "Who?"

"The man you've been with this morning. Must be interesting, otherwise you wouldn't have spent more than two hours with him drinking tea," said Sherlock, sharply as he sat on his armchair and glued his hands together under his chin.

Jane ignored Sherlock's tone of voice.

Maybe she shouldn't have.

"Oh, Bill Murray. I met him at Bart's. We enroll in university today -"

"Just met him and had tea with him?"

Jane sat opposite him, and sighed tiredly. Instinctively, she placed a hand on her belly. "Yeah, I mean - I know he's a stranger, but he seemed to be a nice guy. He's from -"

"Essex. Divorced parents. He lives here in London, moved a few days ago in fact. Doesn't know where to take the tube, though."

Jane giggled, just for the mere fact Sherlock deduced all those things so quickly. She didn't mean any harm by it.

"Are you laughing at me? Why? Because I've found out you're seeing someone else?" asked Sherlock sternly. He leaned forward until he was close to Jane.

Jane stopped giggling. "Sherlock, if this is one of your attempts to make a joke..."

"You know I do not 'joke'," said Sherlock as he grabbed Jane's hand, the same hand which was on her belly, and pressed her wrist with more strength than necessary. For a moment Jane didn't know what to say. "You're  _my_  wife."

"Sherlock... how can I see someone else? You know I love you. And I'm pregnant -"

"It doesn't matter whether you're pregnant. I fuck you every other night, don't I?"

Tears started to go out and Jane couldn't help it. Sherlock was still holding her wrist, tightly. It wasn't a tender, loving touch. It was  _violent_ , painful.

This wasn't Sherlock.

Jane wanted to speak, but she couldn't. She started to mumble incoherent things and it seemed as if Sherlock was enjoying it. Jane tried to break the contact, but Sherlock was stronger than her. She looked into his eyes. Those eyes had always been soft, pure and clear. This time Sherlock's eyes were bold, tough, dark.

"Sherlock please, don't talk to me like that," begged Jane.

He only looked at her crying eyes. Sherlock stood up and, still not letting go of her hand, he pulled to her feet. "I'll talk to you as I please because you're  _my_  wife and you're not seeing  _him_  again. Am I clear?"

Jane didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

"Do not make me repeat myself."

Sherlock let go of her wrist and walked past her looking for his coat. Jane sighed inwardly and closed her eyes, relieved Sherlock had let go of her hand. The tears continued falling down her blue eyes. She pressed a hand to her mouth, preventing the coming sobs.

He slammed the door behind his back and left the building. As soon as Jane saw him walking away, she fell to the floor and cried her heart out, asking herself what she had done. What could she possibly had done to make Sherlock this angry? Placing both hands on her growing belly, Jane told her baby everything was going to be OK.

"Daddy and mummy will be fine, I promise baby. I  _promise_."

It was very late Sherlock came back. Jane was upstairs, in their baby's room when he appeared and hugged her tightly. It was just like that morning he yelled at her.

And Jane didn't know what to do. She was fearful. She didn't know if she should said something. She didn't know if Sherlock was still annoyed with her.

"I love you. Please Jane, don't leave me."

Jane didn't say a word. She closed her eyes and buried her face into Sherlock's chest.

"I can't conceive of the idea of you with someone else."

She remained silent.

"I was jealous. Please Jane, forgive me," whispered Sherlock into Jane's ear. From inside his pocket he produced a small brownish teddy bear and he placed it next to Jane's belly.

"I bought this for  _our_  baby."

This time Sherlock kissed her lips and Jane kissed him too.

"Do you forgive me?"

"Yes," said Jane as he felt Sherlock's lips on her neck. His warm, soft hands on her belly felt good. Like if they belonged there.

They made love that night. Sherlock was tender, loving. He was sweet and soft. He repeated endless promises of love and Jane believed all of them.

Sherlock promised Jane not only love, but sweet and good times. Sherlock promised Jane Heaven in the same earth.

And Jane believed him. Jane was convinced, Jane knew this time everything was going to be alright. Her baby was going to be safe. Sherlock was going to be the old sweet Sherlock again.

But Jane didn't know anything.

Sherlock won't keep his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow: Slang for cocaine.


	28. Rainy Day

"It looks pretty, Jane. I'm sure Sherlock and the baby will love it!"

"I hope so!"

Both Jane and Mrs Hudson were on the room upstairs. Using some money from her savings, Jane got some nice yellowish paint, and one day Sherlock was working with Lestrade, she managed to paint the four walls of the room, her baby's room.

"You must be so tired! You should've ask Sherlock to do this," said Mrs Hudson.

Jane sighed. "Sherlock doesn't like these kind of things and he's been quite busy lately."

"Why don't you take a shower? I'll cook something for supper and we can eat together if you want."

"Sure, I'd love it, thank you!"

After a quick shower, Jane was happily eating dinner with Mrs Hudson when her mobile phone went off. It was Suzanne.  
Mr Watson was dead.

Two days after Jane was standing in front of her father's grave. Next to her was Sherlock. He was holding her hand. It was cold, it was a very cold November morning and Jane was devastated. They were told Captain John Hamish Watson died fighting for his country. When Jane asked if he suffered, she was told he died instantaneously. A shot in the head.

What hurt her the most was knowing her father was going to be sent back to England just in a few days. And it was going to be definitive. He was going back to her and he died.

"It's not fair."

Sherlock rubbed her knuckles softly. "Jane -"

"It's not fair, Sherlock! He was coming back! He was coming back to me and they killed him!"

Jane cried in her husband's arms. Suzanne and Harry were there as well. Greg too. He had met John when he came back a few months ago and he'd promised him he was going to keep an eye on Suzanne and the girls.

Sherlock confessed Jane he promised Mr Watson he was going to take good care of her and the baby. That he was going to be by her side, always. This comfort her, somehow. After the funeral, everyone went to Jane's old house. Jane couldn't eat. She was lying on her old bed and Sherlock was next to her.

"Do you remember when we painted your ceiling?" asked Sherlock, pointing at the glued starts above them.

Jane nodded, still, she remained silent.

Sherlock took her hand and kissed it.

" _Hamish_."

"What?"

"If its a boy, I want to name it Hamish. Like my dad."

Sherlock nodded and kissed her tenderly. "Of course."

* * *

Sherlock continued working, but Jane was depressed. Every day was hard for both. All the time Jane would do everything she could do to keep herself busy. She didn't want to stop. She kept the flat clean, she cooked, she went to the shops and every now and then she also went to church. But the absence of her father was painful. Every time Jane looked at the blue hat her father left for the baby, she cried and cried. And Jane was alone. Sherlock was busy working on cases and she didn't want to annoy him. She thought she was being silly.

On the other hand, Sherlock continued getting high. He continued injecting himself every time he could, he even tried snorting, making lines with his credit cards and he continued solving cases too. The only thing occupying his mind were the cases, the map of London, criminal records and new ways to get evidence. Now and then Sherlock seemed to forget he was married and that his wife was depressed. He sometimes forgot Jane was pregnant.

And he always ignored Jane's red eyes.

"How was work today?" asked Jane as she placed a plate with pasta in front of Sherlock.

He ignored her question and started eating, and tipping on his phone.

This wasn't the kind of life she imagined. This wasn't the kind of life Sherlock promised they would have. He promised her everything and she certainly had everything. But she dreamed of having a sweet, warm family life. Not that she wanted Sherlock to be for twenty-four-seven with her, but Jane thought it would be nice if at least he talked to her a bit more than  _'good morning'_ ,  _'I'm leaving'_  or  _'bye'_.

Jane sat in front of him and placed both of her palms over her belly. Sherlock has been silent for days now and Jane really needed to talk to him. She needed to hear his reassuring voice. Jane needed to tell him she wasn't feeling well, that her father's absence was painful and that she needed him.

She decided to keep it all to herself.

But Jane felt something was wrong. A strong, deep aching pain across her belly and then between her legs.

"Sherlock I'm not feeling well..."

Jane fainted. When Sherlock tried to wake her up, he saw a big stain of blood on her jeans.

"The baby is fine, so is the placenta. Your uterus, and everything else is fine. The emotional distress is the main cause of the vaginal bleeding," said the doctor as she examined Jane. "Have you been doing things such as carrying heavy things, going on long walks, exercise maybe?"

Jane didn't reply. She looked away. She had been silent since she woke up and she didn't talk to anyone. Not even to Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes, I need to talk to you outside, please."

Once outside Jane's room, the doctor made Sherlock understand Jane's actions such as painting a whole room alone, carrying shopping bags and doing house work such as heavy cleaning activities and her father's death were all factors that were threatening the safety of her pregnancy.

"Mr Holmes, your wife needs a good environment to live in. She needs someone who can help her. The emotional factor is important too. Your baby is fine, healthy. But I fear for her - both, I'd say."

"What do you mean?"

"She's too young. Her uterus is still too small for the baby and if she carries on like this - I'm sorry, but there are plenty of scenarios and as a doctor, I don't like any of them."

"Tell me," said Sherlock.

"An early birth," said the doctor, worriedly. "An early birth can be dangerous for both, your wife can lost her uterus and the ability to bear children. And those are light complications. She can  _die_  while giving birth."

Sherlock nodded. "And the baby?"

"An early birth could affect the baby too. The baby can be born with hearing, heart and neurological problems. It can die as well. We can't tell right now, we can only wait."

Sherlock said he was going to keep an eye on her. He didn't tell Jane what the doctor said.

If only.

* * *

Greg stopped asking Sherlock for his help. He only did it if the case was extremely difficult. Greg didn't want Jane to be alone, he knew she needed Sherlock. But the young consulting detective didn't seem to understand this.

"I won't call you, Sherlock."

"But you need me."

Greg swallowed hard. "Yes. God help me. You've become an important member of my team - I won't deny it, but Jane needs you."

"She's fine."

Sometimes Greg wasn't able to understand Sherlock. The Detective Inspector thought maybe he needed something to think about, keep his mind free of the thought Jane and the baby might be in danger. Maybe Sherlock wasn't fine.

But Sherlock needed cases, because if he wasn't working on one, the doses of cocaine would be higher.

Jane was napping when he injected himself. He didn't expect the effect to last for so long. And he didn't expect Jane to wake up so quickly.

"Have you read the bits I bookmarked for you?"

Jane was dressed as if she was ready to go out. She sat opposite him on her armchair and took a sip of her tea. Sherlock was still trying to get down that ecstasy cloud where he was on. He was high.

"Sherlock... Sherlock, are you OK?"

Jane tried to hand him his mug with tea, but Sherlock continued staring at the ceiling.

"Sher -"

"I'm fine!" snapped Sherlock.

Jane bit her lip and decided to change the subject. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the shops. Christmas is in a few days and we don't have a tree."

The cocaine was leaving his body.

"No," replied Sherlock, sharply.

"C'mon, it'll be fun, I promise!"

Jane begged, but she learned she couldn't insist on Sherlock. Otherwise, she would get yelled at.

It was always her fault.

"I'll go alone."

Sherlock didn't say anything. Jane took her jacket and left.

An hour later Jane arrived with a small tree and bags full of colorful things for the decorations. Sherlock helped her carrying the tree upstairs and left her alone to do the rest of the work. Jane didn't ask, so she started to put up the tree alone and placed it on the corner of their sitting room, close to one of their windows. Sherlock continued working on the kitchen, keeping an eye on his experiments and working on his microscope.

It took Jane a while until the sitting room was fully decorated. She took a few bags upstairs and hid them from Sherlock. she had got him a few presents, and she didn't want him to see them.

She was so excited. It was going to be their first Christmas together.

"Sherlock, come here. I've finished decorating the room!"

Sherlock followed her and looked at the decorations. They reminded him his childhood, when Mummy used to decorate all the house by herself. The only thing missing was the angel at the top of the tree.

"Here," said Jane giving him the little angel. "Let's put it together, shall we?"

Jane had placed the little tree on the corner of the sitting room, close to the windows. It was lovely. Both put the angel at the top and Jane hugged Sherlock.

"This is our first Christmas, Sherlock."

For a moment Sherlock forgot all about cocaine. He kissed her tenderly and he told her again countless promises of love.

"I love you."

That night, after making love, Sherlock promised himself he was going to quit drugs.

* * *

"We'll spend Christmas here. My mother and Greg will be in Cardiff and my sister is in Leeds. Sherlock's parents and his brother are abroad," said Jane as she looked at Mrs Hudson's knitting.

"I will be visiting my sister. She lives in the countryside. You'll be alone then."

"We'll be fine."

"So, you like this?" asked Mrs Hudson. She showed Jane a nice knitted baby jumper. It was light blue and it was lovely.

"I love it, Mrs Hudson. You shouldn't have."

The old landlady smiled tenderly. "I wish I could have had my own children. I would have knitted lots of jumpers!"

Jane smiled at her. "If you don't mind me asking, why you didn't have children?"

"I couldn't have babies. My husband was fine with it, but the years passed and he started hurting me. He said it was my fault. Thank God Sherlock came along."

Jane didn't say anything.

"He's a sweet young man, Jane. You're very lucky. He loves you."

Jane remembered Sherlock's mood swings, his yelling, the time he grabbed her hand violently.

That wasn't Sherlock. It had been her fault.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .About Jane's father's death: I don't really know if soldiers who die away fighting (Iraq, for example) their bodies are sent back to their country. So in this fic, just because this a fic, Captain John Watson's body is sent back to England to be buried there.
> 
> .All the medical facts mentioned in this fic have been properly researched.
> 
> .All the facts about drugs mentioned in this fic, such as Sherlock's behaviour, are based in someone close to me who used to take drugs such as cocaine.
> 
> I mention this because someone might disagree with the things I write and describe in this fic. Drugs is not always an easy topic to deal with. Because of that, feel free to point things out, but as I said, I have first-hand experience with people who did drugs, so as far as I can tell, this is, so far, not so inaccurate.


	29. Reign of Love

The 24th, Jane woke up determined the first Christmas eve she and Sherlock were to spend together, was going to be not only the first, but it was also going to be one of the most perfect days in their lives. She woke up very early and went to the shops to get all the things she needed for dinner. It was a bit hard, and she had to agree to Mrs Hudson's words, she shouldn't have gone to the shops the same 24th.

The next thing to find was the perfect dress. As they were spending Christmas eve alone, Jane wanted it to be perfect. And besides food, she wanted to be pretty for Sherlock. Jane felt like they hadn't been that close lately, at least not as much close as Jane would have liked them to be. Another thing to add to the list was the sudden amount of weight she had put on. She knew most of it was because of pregnancy of course, she was carrying a baby inside her. But a part of it was because she has been eating a lot and now her clothes were far too tight for her.

After walking for a long time, Jane found the perfect shop for her and her needs. For very good prices, Jane got the kind of jeans she liked with a wide elastic band perfect for her growing belly. She also got nice tee an shirts and knitted jumpers as well. However, she needed something for the night, and as if it was her lucky day, Jane found the perfect dress. It was a navy blue sleeveless dress, long above her knees and it was loose, so it accentuated her pregnant bump perfectly. She didn't want to spend more money, so she was going to use her prom shoes and natural tights.

When Jane was back home the flat was empty. Sherlock didn't left a note so Jane thought maybe he was with Lestrade.

_**Good morning love. Stay safe, OK? J XXX.** _

Sherlock didn't reply back.

* * *

"I knew I'd see you again. Was it good?"

Sherlock nodded. "Obviously. Wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

The famous 'Peter' shook hands with Sherlock and handed him more cocaine. Sherlock paid for it, but before he could leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Have you tried snorting*?"

"Yes."

Peter made a gesture and nodded. "Look at you, you're really into it aren't you."

"That has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me, pretty boy," said Peter as he got close to Sherlock. "I'm selling you my snow* for the second time. I've to know my clients."

"And what makes you think I'll be your client?"

"You know where to find me. You're clever," Peter handed Sherlock a card with an address and a phone number. "Here, have this. It's a nice club, naked women, mountains of nose candies*, some other things if you wanna try. Just say my name at the door and you'll be welcomed. I know my girls will love you."

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, but he finally put the card into his wallet.

"That's a good boy. If you're alone for Christmas you should come and my girls will cheer you up."

Without saying a word, Sherlock stepped outside the black door and walked away from there. He just walked a few streets when his phone went off.

_**Good morning love. Stay safe, OK? J XXX.** _

He really needed a line.

* * *

It was tea time when Sherlock went back to Baker Street. As soon as he stepped in, he found Jane sitting on her armchair reading a book and drinking tea.

"Hey."

Sherlock knelt between her legs and rested his head on her lap, close to her belly. "I love you."

Jane smiled at him and caressed Sherlock's wild, dark curls. She felt Sherlock lifting her jumper and then her tee to kiss her belly. It was like old times. Sherlock always loved to kiss and touch her belly, he liked to wait for the baby to start kicking. The baby always kicked when Sherlock was around. It was as if it knew its father was close.

The baby kicked.

"Knows when his father is close."

Sherlock kissed her belly again. "There must be a scientific explanation as to why a baby can feel one of its parental figures close."

"Well, Hamish knows when you're close because my heart beats quickly than normal every time you're around."

The young detective delicately kissed Jane. "Does your heart beat faster because of me?"

Jane nodded. "Of course. Because I love you."

"Promise me you'll love me."

"I promised to love you under God's eyes. I'll always love you, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked into her eyes. Jane noted Sherlock's eyes were dilated. There was cold sweat on his forehead.

"Always?"

"Always. It won't matter if you're poor or sick, I'll always love you," said Jane as she kissed him.

Their kiss was long, deep but soft and pure. They hadn't kissed like that in what seemed to be ages and Jane enjoyed every moment. She had to learn Sherlock was someone she could never ask for a kiss or a hug. He tended to be cold and she accepted that. She accepted it because that was Sherlock and she loved him just like he was.

"I didn't get you a present."

Jane smiled. "It's okay. I got you something, but I won't tell you what it is. You'll hate to wait till tomorrow, love."

Sherlock smiled and Jane had to break the sudden show of affection and start cooking for dinner.

* * *

For Christmas eve, Jane cooked roasted chicken. It was their first Christmas as a couple and she wanted it to be perfect. Sherlock spend the whole afternoon on his computer while Jane prepared dinner. When it was time to sit down, Jane changed her clothes and put on that nice blue dress she got early that morning. Her long hair was loose. She wanted to look natural, so Jane only put on a light pink lipstick and nothing else.

"Dinner's ready."

Sherlock looked at her from head to toes and smiled. He remembered their prom party, Jane's blue dress. That night in which they danced together for the first time. Jane looked beautiful. And Sherlock felt more in love with her.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you. I've been putting on a lot of weight recently, I look like a whale," said Jane as she gestured him to sit down on the table in the kitchen.

Sherlock looked at the nice table. Jane had made a magnificent work getting a nice tablecloth, candles and the food looked good. "But you're a beautiful whale to me."

"That's a bit not good, Sherlock."

They ate calmly. Jane told Sherlock about all the clothes she had got for herself. Sherlock admitted he didn't know there existed something like maternity clothes and Jane laughed. It was like old times. Sherlock ate Jane's food and they talked lots. It looked like the yelling, the time he grabbed her hand violently and all the silences between them had never existed.

"It's our first Christmas together as a couple, Sherlock."

He nodded. "I know."

"And next year we'll spend Christmas with our baby."

"With Hamish," corrected Sherlock and Jane nodded.

Jane was still over the moon Sherlock agreed to the name. She always thought Sherlock wanted to name the baby after his father or maybe after an uncle since he came from a very important family, but he never insisted on that. When her father died she knew she had to name her baby after him. After all, her father did not only give his life for his country but for her and her baby as well.

It was close to midnight when they stood close to the tree. Sherlock embraced Jane and she buried her face into his chest. He ran a hand over her long hair and closed his eyes. He remembered the first he saw, noticed her. Never had he imagined they would end up like this, together, married, waiting for a baby, living a life they had never conceived of.

Never Sherlock conceived of a life like this, with a woman who loved him, waiting for a baby who wasn't his, but he cared little about that. When the thoughts of a baby coming into his life and all the things that implied emerged, Sherlock started to fear.

And he swore he needed cocaine.

The bells of the church close to Baker Street let them know it was midnight.

It was Christmas.

Jane was on tip toes when she kissed him. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock. I know it's the first of many more with you and our son."

"Merry Christmas, Jane."

"I love you, Sherlock," said Jane between tears. She wasn't crying because she was sad but because she was happy. "I love you so much."

Sherlock kissed her tenderly and placed a hand on her belly and caressed it, feeling the baby kicking inside her. "You can't imagine how much I love you, Jane."

"Promise me we'll always be together."

He kissed her one more time. "We will always be together."

If only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snorting: slang for inhaling cocaine.
> 
> Snow: slang for cocaine.
> 
> Nose candies: another slang for cocaine.


	30. Murder

For Christmas, Jane got Sherlock a nice, expensive black shirt. Sherlock admitted he forgot about Christmas and he didn't get Jane a present. Jane obviously just accepted this because she knew Sherlock was like that. But Sherlock preferred to buy cocaine instead of getting his wife a present.

The money wasn't the problem, the money was indeed no an issue. The thing was, however, that cocaine occupied a higher position in Sherlock's head. Sometimes it was better to get white powder instead of flowers. Sometimes Sherlock would walk past a nursery shop and a nice pram would caught his eye. There was a nice, very nice pram Sherlock knew Jane liked. It was an expensive one and Sherlock could easily afford it using his credit card on his own inheritance. Even Jane could afford it using the card she was given by him and his family. Nevertheless, Jane never used that money. She really liked that pram and it was the only thing they needed for their baby.

Yet Sherlock always stopped to look at that pram. But he continued walking until he met 'Peter' and more cocaine would fill the pockets of his coat.

They spent new year's eve alone. Jane didn't say anything when Sherlock announced he didn't want to see anyone, because she knew she only needed Sherlock and no one else. And she accepted Sherlock's decision.

During those two weeks until Sherlock's birthday they lived peacefully. Even though there were days in which Sherlock would not speak a word at all, there were also days in which Sherlock would be very close to Jane. He would caress her belly and wait for the baby to kick. The baby always kicked when he was close. Jane told Sherlock the baby knew when its father was close because her heart was beating faster. And Sherlock kissed her tenderly. For two full weeks, Jane lived nice days ad she was able to forget between them had not only been kisses, caresses and touches but also shouting, silences and violence.

"Happy birthday, Sherlock. I love you."

Sherlock smiled at his wife. Jane woke him up with breakfast on bed and she promised she had another surprise for him.

"I love you."

They ate breakfast in bed together and later Jane handed Sherlock his presents. The first one was a new scarf. It was blue, and it was soft and perfect for the cold winter.

"This way, you won't be cold," said Jane as he tied the scarf on Sherlock's neck. "You like it?"

He nodded. "It's nice."

"I wasn't so sure about this one, but hopefully you'll like it."

Jane handed Sherlock a blue, middle size package and Sherlock explored it with his eyes. He tore the blue paper and his eye lit up when he met a toolkit. It was perfect to aid in his detective work. It had a ball point pen, forceps, a scalpel, scissors, etc.

"It's perfect."

In the afternoon, Sherlock's parents arrived at their flat and Sherlock was surprised. He wasn't expecting them. Jane surprised him with a cake she baked and decorated herself and Sherlock deduced she had planned it all. His mother got him clothes and his father a check with a generous sum of money. An unspoken agreement that aside his inheritance, they would always support him and his family. Not only financially speaking, but Richard assured Sherlock they would always be present.

Sherlock's parents loved the flat. They agreed it was lovely and Jane felt proud. She was always making big efforts to keep it clean and pristine. She wanted Sherlock to live in a good place, and as it wasn't as good as where he used to live, she wanted 221 B Baker Street to feel like home for Sherlock.

They ate cake, drank tea and talked about all sorts of things. Jane was told she looked beautiful and that they couldn't wait for the baby to come to this world. And for that day, just that day, Sherlock didn't touch his cocaine.

At least for a few hours.

"How far are you, Jane?" asked Mr Holmes while admiring her growing belly.

"I'm almost twenty seven weeks pregnant."

"We can't wait to meet our grandchild, dear," said Mrs Holmes as she caressed Jane's belly.

Had this happened a few months ago, when Jane just got married to Sherlock, she would have hated herself. She hated it every time she had to face Mrs and Mr Holmes, not because she didn't like them, but because she was lying to them. Her baby wasn't Sherlock's - biologically speaking. But he was going to be her baby's father anyway, he was going to give her baby his name and he was going to be present to raise it and protect it like a father would do. And it didn't matter genes and blood. Jane felt Sherlock had always been her baby's father.

It was late when Elizabeth and Richard Holmes left Baker Street. Jane promised she was going to keep them updated with more baby news and they made Sherlock promise he was going to look after her.

"I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

Sherlock shook his head. He needed a line and he needed it now. "Go to sleep."

Jane nodded and kissed his forehead. "Don't stay up till so late, okay love?"

He looked at her disappearing into their room and waited for a few minutes. He knew Jane was tired hence she was probably going to sleep soon.

Sherlock took the bag with cocaine and prepared himself a line. It was a poor amount, he wanted to try both ways; snorting and injecting himself altogether. Injecting was always the best option, the cocaine and its effects would be always better that way. Snorting took time, and it was something he liked but not that much. He had to make himself sure he didn't have white powder -  _cocaine_  - left or any traces of it on his nostrils. Snorting was dangerous for his nose. And at least he could hide the needle marks on his arms.

Sherlock injected himself first. Using his right hand, he pressed the needle into the familiar spot of his left arm and sighed with pleasure. It never hurt him. Injecting himself cocaine was as good as sex, he agreed. Then, he waited for a moment. He buried himself on his armchair and waited until he felt the good effects on him. As soon as he started feeling the cocaine on his system, he finished preparing the line and pressed his left nostril and snorted the line of cocaine on the table of the sitting room. He was half way through when he felt Jane catching her breath.

"Oh my God."

He immediately raised her head and saw Jane, standing on the doorway of the kitchen and looking at him with her blue eyes. He noted her eyes were fixated on him and on the cocaine left on the table and the needle. She was pale. Jane was close to crying and she pressed a hand on her big belly when she stumbled.

"Oh my God," Jane repeated and clamped her hand over her mouth.

Too late. The cocaine was already on him.

Sherlock was high.

"Sher... oh my God. Oh my God -"

Sherlock never thought this would happen. The look on her face, her crying eyes, her hand over her mouth and the other hand on her belly - Jane shouldn't know, she shouldn't watch, he thought. She was never supposed to know. And yet there she was, staring at him and looking how he was snorting.

And there was no coming back.

Jane tried to step back but soon Sherlock was on his feet and close to her. He grabbed the hand on her belly and shoved her against the nearest wall violently. Sherlock wasn't being gently at all. He was being violent and Jane closed her eyes tightly as soon as she felt pain on her back and on her head.

"Tell me that's not - please Sherlock tell me you're not -"

"Shut up! This is your fault!" yelled Sherlock and when Jane tried to pull him away, he quickly reached out her arm and showed her against the wall again.

"Tell me that's not yours, please tell me that's not yours," begged Jane, completely ignoring the blood on her head, which was falling down her left temple. Seeing this, Sherlock pressed her strongly against the wall not caring at all, making the cut behind her head deeper.

As he was taller and stronger than her, it was impossible for Jane to escape. Her yes were full of tears and Sherlock didn't seem to mind. He had an arm on each side of her head and she knew it was going to be impossible to escape. She looked into his eyes and understood. Sherlock was high. And he probably didn't know what he was doing.

"What if it's mine?" snapped Sherlock.

"Please Sherlock, let me go."

He smiled at her, darkly. "Why should I? You're  _my_  wife. You  _belong_  to me."

"I'm begging you, please, please - for our baby. Please let me go," begged Jane between tears.

Sherlock took her arm and shoved her, making Jane fall on the sofa. Sherlock slapped her hard across the face at the same time he pressed his whole body against her. Jane couldn't help but scream. Sherlock's hand on her face hurt. Jane felt a burning sensation and blood on her mouth. Her lower lip was bleeding.

Jane started crying even more, because it was the first time someone hit her. It was the first time Sherlock hit her.

And it hurt. Sherlock wasn't exactly heavy, but his body weight was heavy on her belly and Jane started to feel pain, not only on her head because of the bleeding or on her face because of the slap; Jane started to feel pain on her belly and she could also feel something between her legs.

Jane started bleeding.

"Sherlock please, for our baby -"

"Shut up! Stop saying  _'our baby_ ' when what you're carrying inside you isn't even mine! You're such a  _slut_. You got pregnant and made me say everyone it was mine, but it isn't. It isn't because you preferred Sam Sawyer's cock, didn't you?" screamed Sherlock as he started to pull at Jane's nightgown. "I'll fuck you know and you'll prefer me. I'll make you scream my name until I come."

Jane's tears were endless and she unsuccessfully fought Sherlock off, but he was too strong. His words hurt Jane. Sherlock's words practically broke Jane's heart and she knew there was no coming back after this.

And it hurt.

"Sherlock, no please - I'm begging you, please!"

Sherlock pressed a hand on her jaw. "I'll have to teach you a lesson because all of this is your fault. You should have loved  _me_ , this baby should be  _mine_  - completely  _mine_. But you were a  _slut_  and -"

Jane slapped him hard and managed to scape from underneath him. The first thing that crossed her mind was asking for help because she knew she would probably end up hurt or dead. Jane thought of her baby inside her when she felt a severe pain across her stomach. Jane hissed and placed both hands on her stomach trying to feel her baby kicking but it wasn't. The baby wasn't kicking and Jane looked down and realised she was bleeding.

She knew she needed to get help or maybe her baby could die. She didn't mind herself. She only wanted her baby to be okay.

Jane wanted Hamish to be okay.

Jane managed to walk a few steps until she felt her legs go weak and she stopped. She was at the top of the stairs and she wanted to shout at Mrs Hudson at least to get some help or do something to stop Sherlock but she remembered their landlady was not even in the city. Jane felt breathless and she could barely articulate a word when she felt Sherlock's strong hands grabbing her left arm. Sherlock pressed a hand on her scarred shoulder and Jane cried in pain. He did it purposely because he knew that was one it would hurt her. Jane's scarred shoulder always hurt her every time she felt pressure over it and that was exactly what Sherlock was doing.

Jane remembered the time Sam hurt her. And she also remembered the night she told Sherlock about it.

Sherlock promised it.

_"Please Sherlock, promise me you won't hurt me."_

_"Never will I hurt you. Never will I let anyone hurt you."_

Sherlock promised it. _  
_

"You're hurting me - please, let me go!"

"You're not going anywhere!"

Jane placed a hand over Sherlock's cheek, trying to make him focus and think what he was doing. "Please Sherlock... I'm bleeding - I need a doctor, please let me go -"

"I  _hate_  you!" shouted Sherlock as he pushed Jane down the stairs.

Slowly.

Slowly, Sherlock saw Jane falling down the stairs.

Slowly, the cocaine effects started to fade away.

Slowly, Jane fell down the stairs and hit not only her arms, her legs, her back and her head. But Jane also hit her pregnant bump. Jane cried in pain as soon as she felt her weak body on the stairs landing.

Everything was silent.

Slowly, Jane opened her eyes and met Sherlock's, who was still standing at the top of the stairs. There was an absent look on his eyes. And he couldn't believe what he was seeing, what he had done and in the condition Jane was.

Slowly, Jane raised a hand and pressed it on her belly. She was trying to feel her baby, but she couldn't. Jane started sobbing as she pressed both hands on her belly in a futile attempt to feel her baby moving.

"Please baby, tell me you're alive," whispered Jane using a sweet tone, the same tone she always used not only to talk to her baby inside her but also to talk to Sherlock after they made love. "Tell me you're still alive, please."

That was what made Sherlock see what he had done; hearing Jane's broken but still sweet voice talking to the baby inside her - their baby - which was probably  _dead_.

"Jane," Sherlock ran down the stairs and tried to helped her, but before he could get close Jane rejected his touch and with a big effort and pain, she managed to move several inches away from him.

"I'm sorry - I'm... God, I'm sorry. Jane, I'm sorry," tried to say Sherlock when he looked into Jane's scared eyes.

Little tears started falling down his eyes when he looked at Jane. She was covered with bruises; her bare arms and legs had purple marks product not only because of her fall, but also because of his own hands. Jane's left shoulder, her scarred shoulder had a big bruise. Looking down, Sherlock found blood on her thighs. She was losing the baby.

Jane had both hands on her belly trying to feel her baby.

But she couldn't.

And she was crying.

"I can't feel the baby. I can't feel Hamish... " said Jane between sobs and tears before closing her eyes and falling into the darkness.

Kneeling on the floor was Sherlock, looking how the lives of Jane - his wife, the love of his life, and the baby inside her, the baby he claimed as his - were slowly fading away.

And everything was silent.


	31. Warning Sign

"I can't feel the baby. I can't feel Hamish... " said Jane between sobs and tears before closing her eyes and falling into the darkness.

Kneeling on the floor was Sherlock, looking how the lives of Jane - his wife, the love of his life, and the baby inside her, the baby he claimed as his - were slowly fading away.

And everything was silent.

Sherlock stared at Jane's body for minutes. He didn't know what to do. There was blood between her legs, she had bruises all around her porcelain body product of his violent movements - product of his own hands. Closing his eyes, Sherlock remembered slapping Jane and shoving her against the wall. He remembered hitting her head against the wall, then watching her bleeding - begging him to stop. And then when he pushed her down the stairs and her body falling, her entire body hitting the stairs, and her pregnant belly as well.

Her baby - their baby, Hamish. He didn't think of him, he was so taken by cocaine that he didn't think of him when he hit her.

Before he could think of something else, Sherlock heard the front door being open and Mycroft stepping in.

"Take the body."

Two male paramedics took Jane's body and delicately placed it on a stretcher. Sherlock tried to stay with her, but a third man, a doctor, stepped in between him and Jane's body and looked at him with disapproving eyes. There was a female nurse looking at Jane's bruised cheek and the blood stain on her gown. The woman took Jane's wrist and waited. Without saying a word she nodded at Mycroft and the member of the British Government sighed inwardly.

"She's a fever. Suspected bruised ribs," said the doctor and examined Jane's lower part quickly. "Her water is not broken whatsoever. How far along she is?"

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, but the young detective was speechless. The cocaine was fading away and he felt himself not able to concentrate. He was dizzy.

"Twenty seven weeks," answered Mycroft and the doctor shook his head.

"We must take her now to check the baby is still alive. If it is, we must administrate medicines otherwise she may get into labour."

Mycroft nodded. "Take her where we already agreed to."

Carefully and without saying a word, the paramedics took Jane's body downstairs. Sherlock tried to follow them, but Mycroft stopped him.

"She's my wife! Let me go!"

Mycroft closed the door and stared at his young brother with disapproving eyes. He had never imagined Sherlock would end up like this, high on cocaine. And never had Mycroft imagined someone from his family would do what Sherlock did. Never had Mycroft imagined - conceived of seeing Jane like this, bleeding, barely breathing and beaten to a bloody pulp by nobody but his brother, the man who marry her and promised he was going to take good care of her.

He had to accept he had never been so fond of Jane Watson, but he knew what she had done for Sherlock. She made him more human. She had been Sherlock's only, true friend. Maybe that's the reason as to why he didn't speak when they, Sherlock and Jane, were getting married and the priest asked if someone had a reason why they shouldn't get married. There was a baby who was not a Holmes, but that baby was going to join their family, and there are blood bonds and family traditions.

Yet, Mycroft decided to keep it all to himself.

Who would have guessed the toxic between them was Sherlock?

Mycroft always conceived of Jane being an opportunist, a girl who was behind their family's name and fortune. But all the opposite in fact, Jane loved Sherlock. The circumstances of their marriage may have not been the ones he had dreamed of for him or his brother. But she certainly loved him. She never wanted their money.

He'd started to like her. Mycroft had been keeping an eye on her. He followed her steps. He learned Jane Watson Holmes liked to buy cheap clothes for herself and expensive shirts for Sherlock. He learned most of the decorations of the baby room were afforded using her money, and that Jane herself painted the four walls of the baby's room upstairs. He also learned Jane borrowed books from a library because she couldn't afford some of them. And by looking at the state of Sherlock's credit and debit cards, he learned Jane had never touched nor used them.

The older brother also learned Sherlock liked to visit a man named 'Peter' and apparently he got good snow* too.

By following Jane, Mycroft looked into her red, tired and sad eyes.

However, this time, Mycroft knew he had to step in and stop this.

"Have you already decided what is to be of you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked back at Mycroft. "My private life has nothing to do with you."

Mycroft produced a needle from inside his coat and Sherlock looked at it. "Peter Bishaw, one of the biggest cocaine sellers in this area. And you just jump on him one night after solving a case. What a coincidence, isn't it?"

"You have been following me? Again? Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

"Something better than keeping an eye on my little brother? No, I don't think so."

The young Holmes clenched his teeth and he heard an ambulance downstairs leaving. "Where are they taking her?"

"Somewhere you're not allowed to go to."

"I'm her husband!"

"Oh, are you?" said Mycroft inspecting the walls and the general decoration of the sitting room. "I thought husbands do not beat their wives."

"I wasn't thinking -"

"Are you thinking now, then?"

"Why are you here, Mycroft?" asked Sherlock tiredly, and doing his best to keep his tears back.

"When I first got the report of you buying illegal substances, I told myself it was for an experiment. When I got more reports, I told myself you would be able to control it. Time passed, and I found out Jane missed the interview at Bart's Medical School. Is not hard to deduce she was afraid of you," Mycroft made a little pause to look into Sherlock's eyes. "And one of Jane' greatest aspirations was to get into a medical course and become a doctor. One day she went to Bart's Medical School and she met a young man, kind enough who was only looking for a friendship and he invited her for tea. She agreed and they talked only about medical courses. When she went back home the only thing she wanted to tell you is that she had made a friend. But you were high and you threated her."

Mycroft made another pause but Sherlock remained silent.

"Your wife has blamed herself. She gave up her future only to please you, but have you stopped for a moment to ask her if she was fine? Have you asked yourself if she was happy with you?"

"She loves me."

Mycroft got himself ready to leave. "I'll leave all of this up to her. From now on, your life depends on her and may God help you, Sherlock."

"What do you mean?"

"The day you got married, you promised God you'll protect her. Pray to that same God you haven't killed that baby."

* * *

When she woke up, she found herself lying on a foreign bed. She was alone in the room. In front of her, above one of the windows, was a telly and it was on. The news seemed to mean nothing as she tried to sit and find out where she was.

Jane's first thought was about her baby. She quickly moved her hands to her belly and sighed relieved when she felt Hamish inside her. He was still with her, he was alive.

She felt a severe pain on the back of her head and she found out she had a bandage not only there but on her left shoulder. At first, her eyes widened when she looked at the purple marks on her arms and legs. It took Jane a few minutes to remember what had happened and why she was in hospital.

_"Sherlock please, for our baby -"_

_"Shut up! Stop saying 'our baby' when what you're carrying inside you isn't even mine! You're such a slut. You got pregnant and made me say everyone it was mine, but it isn't. It isn't because you preferred Sam Sawyer's cock, didn't you? I'll fuck you know and you'll prefer me. I'll make you scream my name until I come."_

_"Please Sherlock... I'm bleeding - I need a doctor, please let me go -"_

_"I hate you!"_

Jane remembered Sherlock pushing her down the stairs and then her whole body falling.

It hurt. God, it hurt and it broke her heart. She had never seen Sherlock like that. What broke her heart was seeing him snorting cocaine. Jane remembered the talking about drugs on school. She even remembered asking Sherlock to stop smoking because it was bad for him, when they were still friends. He did it. He said he had stopped smoking because of her. But now it was worst. It was cocaine and Jane knew it was poisonous and dangerous.

But now she understood why he had been so violent with her. All those moments in which he seemed to be lost - he was high.

And Jane blamed herself. Sherlock was clever, and Jane always knew he was prone to get bored easily. She'd promised him a good life, but maybe a marriage, a baby, all those things were too much for him.

It was her fault. Jane not only thought it was her fault. She thought she should have told everyone the baby was Sam Sawyer's not Sherlock's. She should have told her mother about it and maybe she should have just rejected Sherlock's help.

 _"Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard's Criminal Division, Greg Lestrade talked to BBC News about the latest news,"_  said one of the news host and Jane tried to focus on the news.

_"We've searched the area, our whole team is working on the evidence left and we're doing our best."_

_"Detective Inspector, what can you tell us about the explosion in Baker Street? Can we talk about a terrorist attack?"_  asked the reporter.

Greg looked at the camera and then to the reporter.  _"We're working on that. Thank you."_

_"Thank you, Detective Inspector. Now, let's go back to the studio..."_

Jane wiped the tears off her face. She already made a decision, and she knew it was going to be for the best of everyone; for Sherlock's, for Hamish's and for her as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow: Slang for cocaine.


	32. Square One

It took Sherlock most of the night to clean not only the flat but the stairs as well. Everything was covered with Jane's blood. Little tears fell down his eyes every time he wiped Jane's blood off the floor or the walls. All the dishcloths he used were completely red at the end of night.

The walls where he shoved Jane against had blood. The sofa where he pressed his whole body over hers had blood. The floor and the stairs where she fell over had blood. Jane's blood was everywhere.

And Jane's begging was still in his mind.

_"I'm begging you, please, please - for our baby. Please let me go."_

_"Sherlock please, for our baby."_

_"You're hurting me - please, let me go!"_

_"Please baby, tell me you're alive. Tell me you're still alive, please."_

Time ago he promised everyone; his parents, Jane's parents and even to her sister Harry. He promised he was going to look after her and that he was going to love her forever.

Even under Jane's God's eyes.

_"And you, Sherlock Holmes, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"_

_"Yes, I will."_

Sherlock remembered the last time he talked with Captain Watson, Jane's father. It was the day he was going back to Iraq and he was going to Korea with Mycroft.

_"I know I' haven't been a present dad for Jane. I know she'd suffered a lot, but you were there with her wen I wasn't. You're a good man, Sherlock. I know you'll protect her and that you'll be a good husband to my daughter and a good father to my grandchild."_

_"I will. I promise, Captain Watson."_

_Mr Watson looked at him for seconds. "You're willing to give your life for her aren't you?"_

_"Yes," admitted Sherlock proudly._

_"Then I'm leaving knowing my little Jane's in good hands. Please Sherlock, take good care of her. Don't hurt my little Jane."_

_"I won't. I will always protect her, Captain Watson."_

They shook their hands and Sherlock was given an honest and sincere smile.

Sherlock had promised a lot of people he was going to protect, take good care and love Jane forever. And he had promised her as well. That night she cried in his arms, when Jane told him about the time Sam Sawyer hurt her, Sherlock promised it.

_"Please Sherlock, promise me you won't hurt me."_

_"Never will I hurt you. Never will I let anyone hurt you."_

It hurt Sherlock, of course it hurt. The cocaine had not only caused pains inside him but to his family too. Jane and the baby inside her were his family. Sherlock never lied when he said she was his life. He never lied when he told Jane that without her, he was nothing.

Looking to the latest scan, the one he never got his eyes on, Sherlock realised the baby was small, defenseless and fragile. There were also a medical report written by Jane's doctor; the baby was smaller than expected. Everything else was okay. Though, Jane's uterus was still small and it wasn't expanding itself as expected.

What if the baby was dead? What if Jane was dead? Sherlock didn't know what he would do. They were everything he had, everything he would ever have. They were his life and without them, Sherlock has nothing.

It didn't matter how many times Sherlock washed his hands, every time he looked at them, they were bloodstained.

* * *

Jane spent the night resting after she woke up for the first time and after she was reassured by many nurses her baby was fine. Jane insisted and insisted until finally she could talk to a doctor. And to her surprise, her doctor was there.

"Jane, how are you feeling?"

"Please, I need to know how's my baby!"

The doctor nodded. "Your baby is fine. But I need to know if you're in pain."

"My head and my shoulder hurt. And here too," said Jane as she pointed at her ribs.

"You had two cuts, one on your head and one on your shoulder, thats why you have bandages. They indicate you were shoved against something hard, a wall maybe?"

Jane didn't say anything. She looked down at her belly.

"Jane, you have bruises all over your arms and legs. You also have bruised ribs. I was told you were pushed down the stairs -"

" _I_  fell down the stairs."

The doctor took a deep breath. "Listen to me, Jane. I need you to tell me what happened to you. You're in a safe place, trust me. You're in a closed floor, your husband won't be able to come here."

"Who said it was my husband?" Jane snapped back.

"If you don't care about yourself, fine. But think about your baby, Jane," said the doctor as tears started to fall down Jane's eyes. "It's a miracle your baby is still alive. We had to administrate some medicines to prevent an early birth, it's still too early for your baby to come to this world."

Jane nodded. She knew her doctor wanted to help her, but no one was able to help her. She'd already made a decision and it hurt her, but she knew it was for the best. "Who brought me here?"

"Mr Mycroft Holmes. Jane, we will do all we can to keep you and your baby safe, okay?"

"I know. Thank you."

As soon as Jane was left alone, she wiped the tears off her face and placed both hands on her belly, feeling her baby kicking inside her. It was the first time the baby was kicking when Sherlock wasn't around. Jane tried to smile, but thinking about Sherlock made her feel sad, heartbroken.

"I've already made a decision, Hamish. And I  _promise_  you I will not let anyone hurt you, my baby."

* * *

"For God's sake, are you alright?"

Sherlock looked at Lestrade and continued staring at the violin in his hands. "It wasn't a gas leak, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," the D.I. made a pause and looked at him confused. "I thought you'd be with Jane."

"I suppose Mycroft called you."

Lestrade nodded. "You'll have to do something with your stairs or I don't know, move out? It isn't a safe place to live and the baby is coming soon."

Mycroft called Lestrade and told him Jane fell down the stairs. It explained most of her bruises, the cut on the back of her head and her bruised ribs. What Sherlock didn't know is that Mycroft's version of the facts wasn't the one Jane told him. Is not that Jane told Mycroft to tell everyone she fell down the stairs. Mycroft took for granted that was going to be Jane's version of the story.

"Hmmm."

"Sherlock, are you 'K? Why aren't you with Jane?"

Sherlock ignored his questions. "You have got something for me."

Lestrade handed Sherlock a white envelope with his name written on it. "Found this."

"Haven't you opened it yet?"

"It says is for you."

"I'm going to visit Jane this afternoon," said Greg as he looked at Sherlock.

The young detective opened the envelope, ignoring Lestrade's comment and looked at the pink phone inside the envelope he had been given. The phone went off. Sherlock picked up the call and a sobbing woman spoke.

"Hello... sexy. I-I see you want... you want to play."

Sherlock frowned. The woman was clearly crying, sobbing. She was a hostage. "Play?"

"I'll give you... eight hours. In-in-in eight hours... we'll talk..."

The woman finished the phone call.

* * *

The first one coming in was Mycroft. Jane was drinking the tea she had been given by the nurses when he stepped in. In one hand, he had his umbrella. In the other, a small flower bouquet.

"Good morning, Jane," said Mycroft as he handed Jane the flowers.

Jane couldn't manage a smile, not even a fake one but she thanked him for the flowers though. "Are you here to ask me not to present charges against your brother?"

Mycroft occupied a chair and sat next to Jane's bed, but facing her. "Not at all."

"You don't like me, Mycroft. You've never approved of me. Why you brought me here?"

"You could have got hurt."

"I was hurt"

"Indeed," agreed Mycroft. "I have never been fond of you, Jane. You must know I know everything concerning the circumstances in which your child was conceived. I know the baby is not Sherlock's but Sam Sawyer's, a medical student residing in the Unites States at present. Opposite my parents and everyone else, I know that child is the product of a mistake you've made with an irresponsible young man and not with my brother."

Jane didn't say anything to that.

"And I know when I'm wrong. And I have to admit I've made a mistake with you."

Jane looked at him in the eye. "Oh, so you mean you should have let me there and let your brother beat me to a bloody pulp until I died or until my baby was dead and -"

"My mistake was thinking you were a bad influence to my brother," said Mycroft cutting Jane off. "when you were the best thing that has ever happened to him."

"You are not here to tell me that."

Mycroft nodded. "No, I am not. There are reasons to justify my presence here, believe me."

"Oh really?" asked Jane, not really believing Mycroft's words.

"I'm here because I want to know your decision. I was told by your doctor your baby is fine. That it's a miracle it is still alive. I do not believe in miracles, but I know things like  _this_  do not happen twice."

"It won't happen twice."

"Why?"

Jane took a deep breath and placed a hand on her belly. Her heart was beating so fast. She knew there was no coming back. Even if it was going to break her heart and change her life forever, Jane loved her baby and she knew it was for its best.

"I love Sherlock with all my heart and it really hurts me what happened last night. I know he's got a problem and he needs help. You have to help him, Mycroft. He  _needs_  help."

Mycroft didn't say anything to that, but Jane's words was something he had expected. He knew Jane Watson was deeply in love with Sherlock and she'd put up with his behaviour - product of the cocaine - for a long time and it was indeed a miracle, as the doctors liked to call it, that she was still alive, so her baby.

However, what Jane was about to say wasn't something Mycroft expected.

"I don't want to see him again."

Mycroft nodded. "It can be arranged."

* * *

"Eight hours? That woman is a hostage. Give me the phone, we'll trace the call."

Sherlock took his coat, getting himself ready to leave. "I think I know who is behind this."

"Are you going to visit Jane?"

"No," said Sherlock hailing a cab. "trace that call and text me the details."

Sherlock sunk himself into the cab seat when his phone went off.

**Should you pack your things. MH**

**Is she asking for a divorce? SH**

**Find out yourself. MH**


	33. Before I Lose

The cab stopped close to the familiar door. Sherlock knocked not three but four times, his characteristic way to make his seller know he was there. A woman he'd never seen before opened the door and smiled at him. She was shorter than him, she had dark hair, long dark hair and blue eyes. Fake blue eyes. She was wearing a considering amount of make up and tight clothes. Sherlock deduced it was one of his cocaine sellers' girls.

"Where's Peter?"

The woman cleared her throat. "I'm Cindy. You must be Sherlock... what a name. And you're handsome too," said Cindy, seductively.

Sherlock stepped in, ignoring her words and started looking for Peter frenetically, but he wasn't there.

"Where is he?"

"Peter? On holiday. Bad day to do business, sweetheart."

"I need some," said Sherlock, sounding clearly desperate.

Cindy looked at him from head to toes. And she smiled. "Tell you what, sunshine. Kiss me and I'll give you my candies*."

"No."

"No? Well, if that's the case I'd say fuck off. But you're too cute. A man too hot to let go easily. Gimme a kiss and I'll give you all my candies."

"No..." said Sherlock when Cindy pushed him until he fell on the sofa. She was pressing her lips close to his earlobe and Sherlock needed the cocaine so badly that he was willing to give that woman a kiss only to get what he wanted.

It was the kind of moment when if he didn't snort or injected himself he could jump off a rooftop or do anything crazy. Not knowing anything about Jane was driving him crazy, as the sensation within his chest -  _guiltiness._

"A small, innocent kiss won't kill anyone will it? You can't imagine how much cocaine I have, Sherlock. It's all yours if you kiss me."

Without thinking twice, Sherlock pressed Cindy against the sofa and kissed her. She moaned when she felt Sherlock's lips on hers and his hands on her waist. The kiss didn't last long, just a few seconds until Sherlock stopped the kiss and extended his hand, waiting for Cindy to give him the cocaine she'd promised.

"If my boyfriend wasn't in the back room I'd shag you now, right now on this sofa."

"The cocaine."

Cindy smiled at him and handed him a bag with enough cocaine to last a few days. "Oh, you're dangerous. See you soon, I hope."

Sherlock slammed the door behind his back and got into the cab again.

"Got the picture?"

A man wearing an expensive, tailored Vivienne Westwood blue suit opened the back door and nodded smiling. "All I need it's on this picture. Daddy has to go now. I've," he checked on his watch. "Seven hours and twenty-five minutes before the show starts."

Cindy nodded and watched as Jim Moriarty and his faithful companion got into their car and disappeared.

* * *

It was noon when Suzanne arrived at the hospital. She was surprised when she was asked for her I.D and when she saw the floor where Jane was in was closed and there were security men.

"My God, Jane! Look at you! How are you feeling? How's the baby?"

Jane looked at her mother. She looked genuinely worried. She knew Greg told Suzanne about it, about  _'her fall'_. Jane knew, because of Mycroft, that he had been the one calling Greg. He also told Jane he told everyone she'd fell down the stairs.

Jane knew she didn't have to follow Mycroft's instructions. But when they talked, Jane insisted she was going to tell everyone she'd fell only if Mycroft was going to get Sherlock into rehab. That was her condition. She was not going to tell anyone about the violence and about the abuse Sherlock had inflicted on her in exchange Sherlock got into rehab and disappeared of her .

Mycroft told her it was going to be forever. He asked her if she was sure. Jane told Mycroft she was completely sure. Jane didn't want to see Sherlock again.

"The baby is fine. We're both fine."

Suzanne took her hand. "What were you doing, Jane?"

Jane sighed inwardly. "I couldn't sleep so I tried to finish my knitting but I didn't have any yarn left so I wanted to go to Mrs Hudson's and check if she had some and I... I fell."

"Where's Mrs Hudson?"

"She's not in the city. She's at her sister's."

"Goodness... I couldn't believe it when Greg told me. Where's Sherlock?"

Jane sighed and looked away. "Working."

Suzanne took her purse and started looking for her phone. "I'll call him. He's your husband and he needs to be here -"

"Mum, stop! Sherlock doesn't need to be here," said Jane, sad.

"What do you mean? He's your husband! An he needs to know how's his baby -"

Jane took her mother's hand and shook her head. She was already crying when Suzanne sat next to her and waited for her to talk.

"Mum, I've got something to tell you."

"Jane... you're scaring me, dear. What's going on?"

Placing both hands on her belly, Jane took a deep breath. "My baby isn't Sherlock's."

* * *

**2.31 pm - Message to Sherlock Holmes  
**

**The hostage is in Camden. Sent police cars. Where're you? GL**

* * *

Suzanne caught her breath. "What are you talking about?"

"My baby isn't Sherlock's. It's Sam Sawyer's."

"Who on Earth is Saw Sawyer, Jane?"

Jane sighed. Suzanne's tone of voice was getting high and she knew what was coming next was not going to be easy.

"He's the son of one of the doctors at the surgery I used to work -"

"You cheated on your husband with another man?" asked Suzanne, cutting Jane off.

Jane shook her head frantically. "No! Mum... Sherlock and I... we were never together - I mean, we were friends. I'd always been with Sam until I told him I could be pregnant he ran back to the States. I didn't know what to do and I knew you'd make me give my baby up for adoption that's why -"

"That's why what, Jane?"

"That's why I told you my baby was Sherlock's. That's why he married me. He did it so I could keep the baby."

* * *

**2.38 pm - Message to Sherlock Holmes  
**

**If you're with Jane sent her my love. Tell her I'll go soon. GL**

* * *

Suzanne shook her head, disapprovingly. "Why you lied, Jane? Why?!"

"I - I didn't know what to do! I wanted to keep my baby, I didn't want to give it up for adoption -"

"You should! You should give it up for adoption because you're only a teenager and you got pregnant with the child of who knows!"

Jane sobbed. "I know him!"

"You know him? So why he left? Didn't you think, Jane? How could you? How could you've lied to me and the Holmes?"

"Mum, I'm sorry! Please -"

Suzanne wiped the tears of her face and took her purse, getting herself ready to leave. "I can't stand this. I can't believe you've lied to all of us. Shame on you, Jane. What would your father said - oh my God."

Jane tried to stand up, but her legs were weak. "Mum, please!"

Suzanne shook he head. "If your father was here, he'd be as disappointed as I am. I don't want to...," she turned herself ready to leave. "forget you have a mother, Jane."

"Mum, please I need you!"

Suzanne left.

And she didn't turn back.

* * *

**3.05 pm - Message to Sherlock Holmes  
**

**The hostage had something for you. Come ASAP. GL  
**

The last text made Sherlock's eye lit up. He had a suspicion of who was behind this and he also had a needle buried into the familiar spot of his left arm.

It took him less than twenty minutes to be at the Scotland Yard building and less than ten seconds to be in front of Greg Lestrade's desk waiting for what had been left to him.

"The hostage had enough semtex to blow up en entire building. I've x-rayed this envelope myself. It's clean."

Sherlock took the envelope. "How reassuring."

"I couldn't interrogate her though. But some officers told me she was kidnapped and instructed to stay there and call you. She was told not to reveal anything about her kidnapper."

"Obviously."

When Sherlock opened the envelope, his eyes were as wide as saucers. Inside was a picture of him, kissing Cindy, one of Peter's girls. And there was an inscription at he bottom of the picture.

_**Wife's new replacement? M xxx** _

"What is it?" asked Greg, obviously worried after looking at Sherlock's pale face.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You look pale. Sherlock are you OK?"

Sherlock looked at his watch. "Three hours. Five hours have passed, which means we have three hours."

"It was eight hours to find the hostage -"

"No! Something else will happen. And it can't come too soon."

Greg was confused. "Sherlock -"

"He's going to take Jane."

"What? He? How do you know?"

" _Moriarty_. He was the one behind the pink lady's case, remember?"

Lestrade nodded. "But how -"

"I need to see Jane," said Sherlock before running off again.

* * *

**3.22 pm**

Jane was sitting on her bed when a nurse opened the door.

"Miss Watson, this was left for you," said the nurse as she handed Jane the white envelope with her name written on it. Jane smiled at her weakly and thanked her. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was still crying after what happened with her mother.

While the nurse prepared her medicines, Jane opened the envelope. And she couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a picture of Sherlock and a woman. They were kissing. Sherlock had her pressed against a sofa and he was kissing her eagerly. Jane started crying again. Sherlock had both hands on her waist and the woman had a hand on Sherlock's chest. They looked as if they were enjoying it.

There was an inscription at he bottom of the picture.

_**Meet your replacement. M xxx** _

"You like her?" asked the nurse.

Jane frowned. "What?"

"Your replacement. Do you like her?"

Before Jane could say something else, the nurse was over her, pressing a hand over her mouth and a needle into her arm.

And everything was black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Candies: Slang for cocaine.


	34. Death and All His Friends

"You're not allowed to go in, Sir."

Sherlock shook his head. "She's my wife and I need to see her!"

"We have been strictly warned and instructed not to let you go through this door, Mr Holmes," explained one of the security men.

Greg frowned. "Who are you and what are you doing here? He's Jane's husband! Who told you he can't -"

"Mycroft. He's behind this," said Sherlock cutting Lestrade off as he dialed his brother's number. "I need to see Jane."

_"She doesn't want to see you."_

"I - she's going to be taken. I need to see her -"

_"She doesn't want to see you, Sherlock."_

"I don't care whether she wants to see me or not. She's going to be taken. Tell your men to move or I'll make them."

A quick text to one of the men and they moved, letting Sherlock and Lestrade run through the corridors until they were in front of Jane's room. Sherlock was the one opening the door and stepping in. It was empty. Sherlock knew Jane had been there.

Looking at the bed, he found the same envelope he was given early. And there was the same picture of him kissing Cindy.

* * *

Jim smiled at Jane's unconscious body. He looked at the bruises on her legs and arms, at the purple mark on her cheek and the bandages on her head and shoulder.

"Look at her. It seems like your cocaine made him crazy, Seb."

His assistant nodded. "I should get an award for my acting."

"Indeed. Now, let's all get ready for the show," Moriarty checked his watch. "We have two hours and thirty-two minutes."

Sebastian Moran nodded and brushed Jane's long hair. 'The Big Show' as his employer James Moriarty liked to call it was going to be the meeting between him and Sherlock Holmes, the kid who liked to pry where he shouldn't have to. It started early and now the boy was all a man. The little girl who used to help him was now his wife and she was pregnant.

But things were going to change soon.

* * *

"Call your men. Interrogate all the medical staff. Someone who belongs - pretended to be belong to this hospital took her," said Sherlock as he placed the envelope into his pocket.

Lestrade ran a hand over his face. "Jesus, I don't know how I'll tell Suzanne about this."

"You won't."

"What do you mean?"

"Interrogate the medical staff. Text me if you find something," said Sherlock as he tuned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to think."

Sherlock went back to Baker Street. He couldn't stop thinking about Jane on his way back to the flat. He still needed to see her, he still needed to talk to her and he needed apologise and ask for her forgiveness. Sherlock needed to tell Jane how much he loved her, how sorry he was and how confused and stupid he had been.

He needed Jane to know he wanted to change. Sherlock needed Jane to know he wanted her back and that he was willing to give up everything - cocaine - to be with her and the baby.

Once inside Baker Street, Sherlock went straight to the baby's room. It was the first time he was seeing the walls painted yellow. Jane told him about it, but he never considered going upstairs to take a look at her work. The place was beautiful. Everything was ready to welcome the baby - Hamish. The furniture was in place, so the clothes inside their respective drawers. There were bags full of diapers, toys and pictures as well.

Jane framed all the scans, from the very first one to the latest one. Sherlock observed how much the baby has grown and he wondered where Jane could be. Where Moriarty could have taken her.

Then, Sherlock looked at the cot. Jane had placed it on the middle of the room. The mattress was already covered with soft, blue sheets and a duvet. There was also stuffed animals, and even the little teddy bear he had bought for the baby long time ago, after the first time he'd threatened her. And there was the little blue hat Jane's father had left for the baby.

_"I can't wait to have this baby, Sherlock. I just can't."_

_"Nor can I."_

He was about to prepare himself a line when his phone went off. The cocaine he had injected himself early that day was fading away. and he needed more. _  
_

_**Don't you know where the wifey is? Clue: Carl Powers. Come alone. M xxx**   
_

Carl Powers.

Sherlock remembered watching the reports on the news. _  
_

_"Carl Powers of twelve years old was found dead while taking part in a swimming pool race. The forensic staff of the Scotland Yard have confirmed the sudden death of the boy..."  
_

Now Sherlock remembered. He was twelve years old when everything started. He told everyone it was a murder, that someone killed the poor boy but no one listened.

Of course it was Moriarty. He's been behind that, as the pink lady's case, the Chinese mafia now he was behind him. He was keeping Jane as his hostage.

Sherlock knew where Jane was.

* * *

When Jane opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a cold floor. She was still dressed in her hospital gown. Jane shrugged, she was almost naked and it was very cold. She blinked twice and rubbed her eyes with her hands and realized where she was; on a swimming pool. It was dark.

"Hello sunshine."

Jane managed to sit down, even feeling a severe pain through her belly and downwards. In front of her was a man impeccably dressed. Jane deduced he was wearing fashion designer clothes and he was wearing also a skull tie. He wasn't much tall, Jane saw he was only a bit taller than her. This man looked every man anyone can find on the streets.

But the look on his face... it was frightening.

And Jane feared for her baby's life.

"Who are you?"

"Someone your hubby shouldn't been trying to stop," said Moriarty, calmly. "But oh, how rude of me. I'm James Moriarty, nice to meet you Jane Watson- _Holmes_."

Jim made an special emphasis when he pronounced the word Holmes. And Jane remembered Sherlock saying that name after they've solved their first case, the pink lady's case. The evil cabbie's word before dying was  _Moriarty_.

"Please let me go," begged Jane, feeling the pain going worse.

Moriarty shook his head. "I'm sorry darling but I can't. Not until your hubby shows up. He will show up, won't he?"

Jane cosed her eyes and hissed. The pain was severe and she felt couldn't stand it anymore.

"If it's any consolation, I didn't want to take you in the first place."

"Then please let me go!"

Jim knelt next to her and took her hand. For a moment Jane thought he might help her, but his eyes were frightening.

"To get Sherlock I needed to take what he cares the most - and that's you, honey."

"He doesn't care about me, please Mr Moriarty let me go!"

He placed a hand on her cold cheek and caressed Jane's skin. "You're such a pretty girl. Now I see why Sherlock chose you. But these bruises... did he hit you?"

"That's not your business," snapped Jane.

"Well sweetie, it is my business because I'm Sherlock's cocaine seller. I knew my snow* was good, look at you. You're the living proof my cocaine is so good that it can drive a man crazy enough to beat his own wife."

Jane sobbed. "You're a bastard."

"Maybe I am. But tell me, between Sherlock and I, who's worse? I'd have never hit you, darling. Criminals like me have rules; no women, no kids."

"Then what am I doing here?"

"Proving a point."

"What point?"

Moriarty took her hand and helped her to get to her feet. "This, Jane dear, is an experiment designed to prove what our dear Sherlock will do," explained James as he dressed Jane with a special parka jacket. It had explosives hidden and it was heavy. "Will he stay with his wifey or will he run after me? Oh, that's so arrogant of me, I know. But the results will be relevant, I promise."

His phone went off. James read the text and smiled. "It looks like your beloved hubby is here. Stay right here, don't move and don't talk unless I told you so."

Jane had an earphone and she waited where Moriarty told her to. She clenched her teeth when she felt the pain going worse and when she looked down she saw a mix of blood and something else she didn't know what it was falling from between her legs. Jane realised her water was broken. Jane knew it was too early, she was only twenty-seven weeks pregnant.

She was losing her baby -

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for isn't it? All to distract me from this," said Sherlock as he raised a hand on the air. He had a bag with cocaine and he was carrying Jane's father's gun. He was ready to shoot at any moment when Jane stepped in front of him.

Jane heard Moriarty's voice, and did as she was being told. "Evening... This is a turn up, isn't it - Sherlock?"

"Jane? What the hell -" said Sherlock as he looked at her. It was the first time they were face to face after what had happened. After Sherlock had hit her and pushed her down the stairs.

Sherlock looked at Jane. It was a very cold night and she was only wearing a hospital gown. Jane was shaking and sweating, she looked feverish and when Sherlock looked down to the floor, he saw blood.

"Bet you never saw this coming," said Jane and opened her jacket, revealing the explosives. "What would you like me to make her say next? Gottle o'geer, Gottle o'geer, Gottle o-"

"Stop it!"

Jane closed her eyes while clenching her teeth. She wanted to scream, the pain was almost unbearable but she knew she had to follow Moriarty's intructions. "Nice touch, this the pool... where little Carl died. I stopped him and I can stop Jane Watson too. Stop her heart. Stop her baby's heart..."

"Who are you?" hissed Sherlock.

And James Moriarty appeared.

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call," said Moriarty as he produced a card from inside his pocket. Sherlock recognised it. It was the same card Peter gave to him long ago. "Jim Moriarty. Hi!"

Sherlock's eyes focused again on Jane. There was a red dot on her forehead.

"Don't be silly, someone's holding the rifle for me. I don't like getting my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a tiny glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see... like you!"

"Consulting criminal. Good."

"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me... and no one ever will."

Sherlock curled his lips. "I did."

"You got the closest."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Yes it was."

"A real compliment would have been 'Oh Sherlock, you have such a pretty wife. Pity you like to hit her' but," said Jim and Jane started to cry, silently. "Daddy's had enough now, Sherlock. I've shown you what I can do, so take this as a friendly warning, my dear: back off."

Sherlock looked at Jane again. She was sweating and Sherlock could see she could pass out at any moment. "People have died."

"That's what people do!" Hissed Jim, angrily.

"But I will stop you."

Jim shook his head. "No, you won't."

"Jane, are you alright?"

Jane didn't answer.

"You can talk, Jane dear. Go ahead."

"I'm fine."

"You should tell your husband you're about to have his child - wait, he's not the father isn't he? My mistake -"

Jane fell on the cold floor. "Aaaaarrrgghhhhh," she hissed, cutting Jim off.

"God, couldn't you have waited until I told Sherlock what happens to him if he doesn't leave me alone?"

Sherlock smiled at him, but he ignored Jane. "Oh let me guess, I get killed."

"Killed? Don't be so obvious. I'll kill you, someday. Not now. I'll be a good boy and I'll let you enjoy your little family - but if you don't stop prying, I'll burn you," said Moriarty as he fixated his eyes on Sherlock's. "I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"Aaaarrggghhhhh -" hissed Jane again, pressing both hands on her belly.

Moriarty started to walk away, ignoring her. "Oh, but we both know that's not quite true. Well, I better be off. So nice to have a proper chat. Let's see how my experiment goes. Ciao... Sherlock Holmes."

As soon as Moriarty was out of sight, Sherlock dropped the gun to the floor and ran until he was next to Jane. There was a lot of blood and Jane was pale. She was sweating and she was feverish. Sherlock knew she was in pain and she was going into labour.

"Arrrrgghhh, oh my - ahhhhh."

"Jane, I -"

"Sorry, boys! I'm  _soooo_  changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my  _only_  weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind," said Moriarty as he appeared into the scene again.

Sherlock took the gun and pointed at Moriarty. "Then probably my answer has crossed yours."

"Jane, be a dear and write down the results of the experiment will you?"

Moriarty did as he had told her. He ran, and it didn't took him much until he closed the door behind his back and Sherlock was already behind him. Just as Jim told her, Sherlock ran after him.

"Sherlock - please help me - ahhhhhhhhh!"

Jane was in panic. She was in pain and she could feel her baby pushing, and even when she tried not to move or push, she knew Hamish was coming. But it was too early! She was twenty seven weeks pregnant!

All those fears, all those fears that had been haunting her for weeks - months now, were coming true now.

Jane tried to scream, she cried for help but she felt alone in the world.

"Someone please... Help!"

It is believed mothers do anything for their children. They will always put them before themselves. They will sacrifice for them and ask nothing in return. For that, and for many more reasons, Jane screamed for help. She screamed and screamed, but no one listened.

She even screamed Sherlock's name, but he didn't listen. He wasn't even there, he didn't even care. The cocaine was still high on him and Moriarty was part of a case which seemed to be far more important than anything else.

Jane surrendered and still lying on her back, on the cold floor of a swimming pool, she realised her baby was coming. Tears were falling down her eyes, the pain was extreme, she was breathless and she knew she was dying.

It was dark. It was the night of a cold January. It was the night of the seventh day of January when Hamish Watson was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow: Slang for cocaine.


	35. Don't Let It Break Your Heart

Even after injecting himself a high dose of cocaine, Sherlock texted Lestrade the address of the swimming pool before meeting Moriarty. He knew Jane would be there, so he also knew she would need help. Sherlock knew Jane would need the help he wasn't going to be able to provide her with.

Sherlock was still behind Moriarty's trail and the adrenaline was too high to stop. The euphoria, the metal clarity, everything was high on him. But very deep inside his drugged mind, he hoped Jane and her baby would be safe.

* * *

When Lestrade and his men arrived, he was the first one getting into the place. He was close to the access to the pool when he heard Jane's voice asking for help. She was crying for help, and her voice was high but broken. As soon as he opened the door, Lestrade saw Jane lying on the cold floor with both knees up and her legs were spread. There was blood, a lot of blood and Jane was shaking. There was a river of blood and Lestrade couldn't help but frenetically ask to his team to get an ambulance soon.

"Jane oh my -"

Jane took Greg's hand. "Greg, my baby is coming."

"An ambulance is on the way, breathe..." Greg caressed her forehead. "Everything is going to be okay, Jane."

But Jane was already crying. "Please Greg, take care of Hamish..."

"You're going to be fine, I promise -"

"Don't... don't let Sherlock - don't let him take Hamish," murmured Jane and hissed, feeling her baby pushing.

Greg frowned confused. "Why? Where's he? What happened, Jane?"

"Promise me you're going to... to take care of my baby, please."

"Jane? Jane open her eyes, c'mon... you need to stay awake," said Greg, softly. "Please Jane, for your baby."

It was too late.

And Jane closed her eyes.

* * *

Greg held Jane's hand the whole way to the hospital. She was unconscious and doctors and nurses were close to her, giving her oxygen and checking her vitals signs. He still couldn't understand what she meant when she told him not to let Sherlock take Hamish. Jane was going to survive, she was going to live, Greg was sure of that, but why Jane didn't want Sherlock close? And where was Sherlock? Greg had been part of Jane's life for enough time to know she loved Sherlock with all her heart and he knew the young man loved Jane as well.

A tiny idea was in his mind. What if Jane hadn't fell down the stairs as she said? Before he could think of something else, the ambulance stopped and Jane was taken inside the hospital.

"I'm sorry, you are?"

"She's my daughter - please help her!"

The doctors and nurses took her away from him. Greg could see several doctors were running behind Jane. It was not a good thing.

"I'm sorry, sir. But you'll have to wait."

Greg, defeated by the situation, sat on one chair in the waiting room knowing there was nothing he could do.

_**Message to Sherlock Holmes** _

_**Where are you? GL** _

Sherlock never texted back.

* * *

**_Where are you? GL_   
**

Sherlock stared at the text. He didn't know what to do. There was something within his chest. A sensation that was quite new.

He needed more cocaine.

Not really caring where he was, Sherlock sat on the dirty floor of a street alley and prepared a line on his own hand. He snorted it and closed his eyes, feeling himself already high.

* * *

"The umbilical cord is around the baby's neck - the placenta is separated from her uterus," said one of the doctors as he practiced an emergency ultrasound.

Jane was still unconscious. She was in the operating room and several doctors were running from one place to another.

"Her uterus presents a rupture as well."

The obstetrician and several nurses were silent. Jane' doctor was there and it was hard for her to see her patient in this situation.

"C-section. Get her ready, we don't have time!" said the doctor and turned to a nurse. "Go outside and talk to her father. Tell him he needs to get ready."

One nurse nodded and left the room.

* * *

"What?"

The nurse nodded. "I'm sorry sir. The C-section surgery will take some time... your daughter is still unconscious, the umbilical cord is around the baby's neck and apparently her uterus is damaged -"

"But she will be okay, right?" asked Greg, completely nervous.

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, but we can't tell, sir. You've to be ready for the worse."

"Please - just help her!" said Greg, trying to fight some tears back.

"We'll do our best, sir."

* * *

It was a very cold night. It was the night of a cold January. It was the night of the seventh day of January when Hamish Watson was born.

Jane's doctor took the baby in her hands, cut the umbilical cord and quickly placed it away from Jane. She was still unconscious and under anesthesia. The baby didn't cry like most babies do when they are born. He was little, very little. As Jane was told the same morning after Sherlock had pushed her down the stairs, her baby was still too small to come to this world, but there he was.

"He's blue, give him oxygen!"

Inside the room, several doctors were working trying to save not only Jane's but her baby's life.

As Captain Watson, Jane and Sherlock himself always believed, Jane's baby was a baby boy. Despite looking so tiny and fragile, his vital signs were good for being a premature baby. One of the pediatricians smiled when after they'd given Jane's baby some oxygen, he seemed to respond well.

The doctors were still closing the incision made on Jane's lower abdomen when the heart monitor started beeping.

Jane's heart stopped beating.

* * *

_"Jane is my girlfriend and she's pregnant."_

_._

_"I can't let you do this. You have to understand, Sherlock. You have your own life, and you can't say this baby is yours and you can't just tie your life to mine. You don't want this now and I know you won't stand it."_

_"How do you know I don't want this?"_

_._

_"Jane Watson, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"_

_"Yes, I will."_

_"And you, Sherlock Holmes, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"_

_"Yes, I will."_

_._

_"Sherlock, can I ask you something?"_

_"Hmm."_

_"Promise me you won't hate me."_

_"Never will I hate you, Jane."_

_._

_"I don't have friends, Jane. I have a wife."_

_"Sherlock -"_

_"I love you."_

_._

_"Please Sherlock, promise me you won't hurt me,."_

_"Never will I hurt you. Never will I let anyone hurt you."_

_._

_"I can't wait to have this baby, Sherlock. I just can't."_

_"Nor can I."_

_._

_"There's nothing you have to thank me for."_

_"Yes there is. This baby is not yours, Sherlock. I mean, it's yours, you're going to be his father, but he won't have your blood. He won't be as clever as you are. God, he won't even look like you. He won't have your precious curls or your gray eyes - I'm so sorry."_

_"Jane, I don't care if he doesn't look like me. I don't even care whether he has my blood or not. What I care for is you and him, other things are meaningless to me."_

_._

Everything was fine. They were fine They were a couple. They were building a family. They loved each other so much.

But things changed.

_._

_"I don't want to eat."_

_"Why don't you come here and have tea -"_

_"I said I don't want to eat! Is it that difficult to understand?"_

.

_"Sherlock... how can I see someone else? You know I love you. And I'm pregnant -"_

_"It doesn't matter whether you're pregnant. I fuck you every other night, don't I?"_

_"Sherlock please, don't talk to me like that."_

_"I'll talk to you as I please because you're my wife and you're not seeing him again. Am I clear?"_

.

_"Please Sherlock... I'm bleeding - I need a doctor, please let me go -"_

_"I hate you!"_

.

Sherlock stared at the wall in front of him, ignoring - not really thinking or maybe now knowing that Jane and her baby were fighting for their lives.

* * *

"We're losing her!"

Quickly, a doctor pressed the defibrillator on Jane chest hoping they could save her from death.

"Come on girl," said the doctor as he pressed the defibrillator on Jane's chest. "Charge to seventy - clear!"

Nothing.

"Charge to one hundred - clear!"

Nothing.

And Hamish's heart stopped beating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .Placental abruption: Is when the placental lining has separated from the uterus of the mother. It's the main cause of pregnancy bleeding. It is a significant contributor to maternal mortality worldwide. Its effects affect the mother (severe pain, bleeding) and the child (low level of oxygen in the blood after birth, brain damage, death).
> 
> .Uterine rupture: Is a potentially catastrophic event during childbirth by which the integrity of the myometrial wall (the middle layer of the uterine wall, consisting of uterine muscle) is breached.
> 
> .C-section: Is a surgical procedure in which one or more incisions are made through a mother's abdomen and uterus to deliver one or more babies. A C-section is usually performed when a vaginal delivery would put the baby's or mother's life or health at risk. In this case, Jane has a C-sections because the umbilical cordon is around the baby's neck and she's unconscious, which makes it impossible for her to deliver her baby naturally (vaginal birth).
> 
> .The fact 'the baby is blue and needs oxygen' might not be completely accurate. Most of the procedures written on this chapter have been properly researched and most of the complications are my invention - by this I mean it might/might not be possible for a woman to go through all of this (broken water before term, umbilical cord around the baby's neck, damaged uterus and unconsciousness followed by a C-section and a heart attack) at the same time.
> 
> .The facts mentioned about defibrillation are all my invention. The levels the defibrillator is charged are fictional - I haven't found the proper information, so I decided to write them in a way so they could fit this fic.


	36. Up In Flames

"What?"

The nurse looked at Greg's tired, red eyes. "I'm sorry sir, but we did our best."

* * *

Two phone calls.

Being someone who has a considerable amount of power within his hands, Mycroft Holmes was informed about what had happened at the swimming pool, and then at hospital.

Two phone calls were enough.

Jane Watson, his sister-in-law, had an emergency surgery. Immediately after, she had a heart attack. Her baby was not safe either. He was a premature baby, his lungs were still not mature to breathe by himself and he had a heart attack too.

Mycroft was told they had twenty-four hours to fight for their lives.

Nevertheless, while Jane Watson and her baby were fighting for their lives and against destiny, Mycroft got another phone call and he was informed Sherlock Holmes had been seen on Baker Street, injecting and snorting cocaine.

He decided to wait until the sun was up on the sky.

"Get up."

Sherlock opened his eyes. He was lying on the sofa and there was a discarded needle on the floor next to him. In front of him was Mycroft. He had bloodshot eyes. The young detective quickly deduced his older brother hadn't slept at all.

The cocaine was still on his system.

"Leave me alone."

" _Please_  Sherlock, get up and get into the car," said Mycroft, as politely as he could manage the situation.

Mycroft knew Sherlock was still high. He tried to ignore this fact as much as he could. Or as much as he allowed himself to tolerate. He still had to go to hospital and talk to Jane. Mycroft had a plan and it consisted on taking Sherlock with him so he could take a look at the premature baby connected to a mechanical ventilator, at the young woman who became mother before time and who still had bruises all around her body product of his temper, his addiction. Because Sherlock beat her, and because of Sherlock, Jane's destiny was still uncertain.

Sherlock curled his lips. "Make me."

"You need to go now and take a close look at what your actions have caused."

The young Holmes didn't say anything.

Mycroft's knuckles were white. "Hamish was born last night and Jane had a heart attack."

Sherlock looked away.

"They almost  _died_ , Sherlock."

* * *

"Can I see her?"

After hours and hours, Greg was still waiting to see Jane. After she was taken inside the OR, he waited for more than an hour until he was told Hamish was born and that Jane had a heart attack. After minutes trying, the doctors were able to save her and she was taken to ICU for the whole night and her destiny was still uncertain. Greg was also told her uterus was very damaged and that the consequences would not be the best for her.

The nurse nodded. "She's awake, sir."

"And Hamish? How's he? Please, can I see him?"

Jane's baby was indeed a baby boy. He was named Hamish Watson and his condition was much more delicate than his mother. Being a premature baby, born without oxygen, with the umbilical cord around his neck and after having a heart attack minutes after he was being born meant he had to stay in the NICU for a very long time.

"I'm sorry sir, but you're not allowed in -"

"Please."

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't. Not now. Please, follow me, I'll take you to Miss Watson's room."

Greg wiped the tears off his face and followed the nurse into Jane's room.

* * *

"What do you want?"

Mycroft clenched his teeth. He had to fight the urge to pull at his brother's hair and drag him to hospital by himself. But there were manners and ways. Mycroft was not taught to do that. He was taught to be polite. Even in the worst situations and circumstances, Mycroft would not do that.

Not even when he wanted to.

Without looking at his assistant, he knew there were tears falling down her eyes. Anthea was very fond of Jane. Every time Mycroft asked about her, about the reports of her and Sherlock, Anthea spoke using her soft voice, the tone of voice Mycroft was not much used to.

Without telling her yet, Anthea handed him the papers.

"Jane wanted you to sign this."

Sherlock took the papers and read them.

They were divorce papers.

Mycroft looked closely. Sherlock's eyes scanned all the papers, making himself sure everything was correctly written. The older brother was expecting Sherlock to destroy those papers and fight. Mycroft expected Sherlock to tear those papers and ask for Jane, to see her and the baby and to maybe - just maybe - claim he would get himself clean only to stop the divorce process.

But Mycroft never expected Sherlock to surrender so easily.

"Using your powers, Mycroft?" said Sherlock as he got to the last page where his signature was required to complete the process. "Got a pen? I seemed to have lost mine."

Before Mycroft could do it, Anthea handed Sherlock a pen. The young man, still under the effects of drugs, signed his name and handed the papers back.

"Be aware, Sherlock, there's not turning back."

Sherlock shrugged. Anthea turned and left. Both heard her slamming the front door of 221 Baker Street.

The member of the British Government knew his brother had done the worst thing of his life. He also knew he was probably going to regret it.

Sherlock will regret it.

Someday.

* * *

"Hello."

Jane faked a tiny smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"I want to see Hamish," murmured Jane. "But the doctors won't let me."

Greg nodded. "He's in NICU, but I saw him last night. He's beautiful, Jane."

When Jane woke up, she was informed her baby was safe. She was eventually told Hamish was very little and fragile and that he was going to be at the NICU for a long time. His lungs were not mature, at least not enough for him to breathe by himself.

"Can you take me there? I want to see him. I want to meet my baby."

Greg took her hand and slowly, both walked until they were in front of a half glass wall.

* * *

"I do wish you are conscious enough to understand what this means, Sherlock."

"Will all of you leave me alone now?"

"Stay away from her," warned Mycroft as he turned to leave.

"Who says so?"

The older Holmes ignored Sherlock's words and closed the door behind his back.

Sherlock turned his head only to face Jane's empty armchair and the unfinished blue, small knitted jumper left.

* * *

Jane's eyes were full of tears when she saw her baby for the first time. He was inside a big incubator.

Hamish was so small.

And he was covered with strange things Jane didn't know what they were. Hamish had a nasal cannula with was connected to a mechanical ventilator since he couldn't breathe by himself.

"Can I see him? I mean... can I touch him?" asked Jane.

The doctor shook her head, sadly. "You can't, Jane. Remember he was born before term, and he needs to stay into that incubator for a long time. He needs the oxygen he's being provided with and -"

"But I need to see him!"

"I know. But he's too fragile and he can't afford catching a virus or an infection."

"And how will I feed him?"

The doctor looked between Greg and Jane. "We had to give you strong medicines and that will affect your breast milk. I'm sorry Jane, but you won't be able to breastfeed him."

* * *

"I hate you!" said Sherlock as he smashed all the frames with his and Jane's pictures. "I hate you!"

The pictures of them when they were still friends and the ones taken the day of their wedding were torn into pieces. The sitting room was a mess of broken glasses. Jane's knitting also met its own death when Sherlock tore it up.

It was going to be a nice jumper for Hamish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .NICU: Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
> 
> .Divorce in the UK: Firstly, to get a divorce, you need to have been married for at least a year, and there's a whole process too. In this fic, I've used Mycroft's powers as a member of the British Government to speed things up since Jane and Sherlock have been married for a few months.


	37. White Shadows

Greg was in another floor talking to some doctors when Mycroft stepped in. He, secretly, caught his breath when he saw Jane standing behind a half glass wall, helplessly staring at the small baby inside the incubator. Her eyes were absent. She looked sad, broken. Jane was all a mess and Mycroft wished he could go back in time and change all of this.

"What do you want?"

Mycroft remained silent as he looked to the little baby in front of him, behind that glass wall. There was an inscription,  _Hamish Watson_.

If everything had been different, there should be written  _Hamish Holmes_.

Had everything been different, Jane would have had a normal pregnancy. Maybe Sherlock would have a little Hamish in his arms, smiling and showing everyone how proud he was and how perfect  _his_  son was. If that had been the case, Mycroft knew Sherlock would have smiled and he would probably have taunted him saying he was younger and cleverer and he had a family already.

But that was only a thought, pure imagination. Jane's pregnancy hadn't been a normal one, she wasn't resting on a nice bed and Sherlock wasn't by her side. Sherlock was not there with her, he was not holding Hamish, he was not smiling and he was not teasing him with the fact he had a family.

Jane was still covered with bruises, she was tired and still standing in front of her baby, and both are separated by a glass wall. She was alone, no one was by her side. No one was holding Hamish and no one would probably do for a long time. There wasn't a family family behind Jane but an empty space.

"He sighed this," said Mycroft as he offered Jane the divorce papers. "You'll be receiving the certificate within days."

"Do I need to keep these?"

"No. Just the certificate," explained he.

Jane handed the papers back. "Then I don't want them. Tell your parents I'm sorry. I should do it myself, but I know they don't want to see me."

"May I ask how did you get to that conclusion -"

Without turning, Jane replied. "I'm not stupid."

"No, you're not."

"Take him away, Mycroft," said Jane as she wiped some tears off her face. "I swear I'd do anything you want -  _anything_. But take him away from me and my baby."

Mycroft nodded. "Do not worry, Jane. I don't want my brother near you as well."

* * *

A week later, Jane was still not allowed to meet her baby. She had to stay in hospital too, and every time she was allowed to, Jane went to NICU to see her baby from behind that glass wall. And that was as close as they could be.

Jane was dying to be close to her baby, to feel him, to touch him and to tell him she was going to be okay for him. Only for him.

Jane's dreams about feeding her baby, rocking Hamish in her arms, kiss his tiny face and hold his tiny hands vanished. They were always dreams and now they seemed impossible to happen. Even when Hamish seemed to respond well to the treatment, Jane's chances to be close to him were only dreams and hopes. Still, Jane had hopes.

As soon as she was allowed to go, Jane went to NICU and spent most of the afternoons looking at her baby and praying for him. The only one next to Jane was Greg. She eventually told him the truth about Hamish's real father when Greg asked her why Suzanne didn't want to see her.

Greg tried everything he could, but Suzanne wouldn't change her mind. The Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard wasn't able to understand how a mother would turn her back to her daughter. Jane was suffering and she needed her, Greg told Suzanne about Moriarty and about Hamish being ill, but Suzanne repeated always the same;  _She's not my daughter anymore_.

"I'll talk to her. You need her."

Jane shook her head. "It's okay, Greg. I'll be fine."

Jane regretted her lies. She really needed her mother, she was still fearful about becoming a mum being so young, and being alone. Even though Hamish was still in the incubator, Jane was fearful for their future. She didn't know what she would do next once Hamish was allowed to leave the NICU and go home with her. But then Jane accepted she was paying for her mistakes. She was paying for her and for Sherlock's mistakes.

For days neither Jane nor Greg heard a word about Sherlock. The Holmes never visited, as Jane had said. She was terribly sad, ashamed, angry with herself for lying to them, for letting them believe Hamish was their grandchild when he wasn't.

She forgot all about Sherlock and after a week the bruises all over her body and her ribs were healing well. She was feeling herself stronger now. But all the bad things were nothing when the doctors told her Hamish was indeed a little baby who was strong because he was fighting for his life.

"Don't you want me to get you more clothes?"

Jane nodded, knowing she wasn't going to be able to live on hospital gowns and a single pair of jeans and her favourite jumper forever. "Please."

"What happened between you and Sherlock, Jane?" asked Greg, concerned.

She looked away. "I don't want to talk about that."

"I've sent him texts, I've called him but he won't pick up my calls. Is it because of Hamish -"

"No. He is- he  _was_  fine knowing Hamish wasn't his," explained she, cutting Greg off.

Greg bit his lip. "Jane... did Sherlock hit you? Did he ever...?"

"Greg..."

Jane tried to stay calm, but it was impossible. The simple mention of Sherlock's name and all the memories of that night in which Sherlock hit her, abused her and pushed her down the stairs were back again. The tears were endless and Greg got to his feet, abruptly.

"Why you didn't tell me?" asked he, angrily.

"I - I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry! You shouldn't be sorry. He almost killed you, Jane!"

Jane had tears on her eyes. "Please Greg, don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you - God," he covered his face with both hands. "I'm going to kill him."

"Please Greg, don't!"

"I'll teach him a lesson."

Greg Lestrade slammed the door behind his back and swore he would make Sherlock pay for what he had done, no matter if it could cost him his own job.

* * *

Mrs Hudson opened the front door of the building after spending three weeks at her sister's. She was already missing her own flat, the awful traffic sounds from the busy London and her favourite tenants as well.

No sooner had she left her bags on her rooms than she took the shopping bags with the presents she got for Sherlock and Jane. She got herself ready to pay them a visit hen there was an insisting, annoying knocking on the front door.

"Oh, Mr Lestrade good morning -"

Lestrade stepped in. "Where's he?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade your manners! I'm an old lady -" she tried to scold, but she was being ignored by the furious D.I. of the Scotland Yard.

He insisted. "Where's Sherlock?"

"I've just arrived from the countryside!"

Greg ignored her comment and ran upstairs. Behind him was Mrs Hudson, sensing something wrong was going on.

"That bastard! Where is he?"

The flat was a mess. The floor was covered with broken glasses, and smashed frames. There was white powder on the table, two lines of white powder and a needle on the floor. Gregg looked at it and his eyes widened.

Cocaine.

Jane never told him Sherlock was an addict.

Soon, Greg's eyes focused on the papers left on the black armchair, Sherlock's armchair. The policeman examined carefully; they were divorce papers and they had Jane and Sherlock's signatures.

"Detective Inspector, what happened?" asked Mrs Hudson.

Greg knew there was no point keeping the landlady out of this. And there was no point in keeping Sherlock's behavior from the others. Everyone needed to know who Sherlock was and what he had done to Jane and Hamish. "Sherlock beat Jane to a bloody pulp and she's in hospital."

Mrs Hudson caught her breath. "Oh my God - That's impossible!"

"He pushed Jane down the stairs, Mrs Hudson."

The landlady's heart sunk. "How is she? How's her baby?"

"She's fine. Hamish was born last week - he's not well."

Before Mrs Hudson could say something else, Greg Lestrade's phone went off. It was Mycroft Holmes.

_"Go back to the hospital - now."_

"What?"

_"Sherlock's on his way. I'm afraid he's under the effects of drugs -"_

Greg finished the call. Then, he called his team and headed back to hospital. He knew Sherlock was going to hurt Jane and Greg was not going to let that happen.

Not again.

* * *

Jane was sitting on her bed, brushing her hair with her back to the door. She was getting herself ready to visit Hamish again when someone opened the door of her room and stepped in.

"Greg, did you get my clothes?" asked she, without turning.

But she never expected to hear his voice again.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Her eyes widened, her pulse got quicker and Jane felt her weak heart pounding within her chest. When Jane turned, she found Sherlock closing the door behind his back. He was wearing the dark shirt and the blue scarf she gave him for Christmas. Sherlock's eyes were darker. He looked pale and he had bags under his eyes. Jane looked into those eyes she loved so much, but she feared them. There was not tenderness, love behind those eyes. There was hatred, pain.

Jane feared for her life.

"What -what are you doing here?" mumbled she. Jane felt her throat dry and she wanted to scream, shout for help but she could not.

Sherlock took a step closer. Jane walked a step backwards. He didn't say anything. He walked forwards and Jane walked backwards until she was against the wall.

"Please - leave!"

He grabbed her arm. "It makes you happy now, that you don't belong to me anymore?"

"Let me go -"

"You told everyone didn't you?"

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock pressed himself against Jane and started kissing her neck, fiercely. Jane tried to fight him back, but he was stronger than her and Jane couldn't get him off her.

"You're mine!"

"Please help!"

Sherlock pressed a hand on her stomach Jane hissed in pain. She was still in pain after the c-section. Jane tried to scream, but Sherlock pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Mmmhhh!"

"Shut up!"

Gathering all her strength, Jane pushed Sherlock off her.

"You promised you'd never hurt me! You promised it and you hit me," said Jane between tears. "You almost killed my baby!"

Two policemen kicked the door open and pointed at Sherlock with their guns. Behind them was Greg, more policemen and Mycroft Holmes.

"Sherlock Holmes! Hands up!" shouted Greg.

Sherlock chuckled. "Or what? Are you going to shoot me?"

Mycroft stepped in. "Sherlock -"

"Shut up! This is between Jane and me!"

"Hands up,  _NOW_!" insisted Greg.

Sherlock turned to face Jane, who was crying. "You promised you'd always love me." Jane nodded. "You promised under your God's eyes that you would love me, comfort me, honour and keep me, in sickness and in health," said he, pronouncing the same words they said to each other the day their wedding, and pulling out Jane's father's gun, Captain Watson's gun from inside his coat pocket, Sherlock pressed it to his temple. "As long as we both shall live."

Jane panicked. "Sherlock - drop that gun, please!"

"Please, Jane," begged he. "Please don't leave me. I love you so much, Jane, I'm nothing without you. I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"

Jane shut her eyes. There were tears on her face and seeing Sherlock with a gun on his temple was killing her. "Please Sherlock, drop the gun."

Sherlock aimed at Jane. "Please Jane, please love, come back to me, please! I'm begging you, please come back to me!" begged Sherlock.

Before anyone could do anything, he dropped the gun and fell to the floor. On his knees, placing both of his hands on the small of Jane's back and pressing his head against her flat stomach, he begged again. "We can raise Hamish together and be a family again, please!"

Jane looked up. Several policemen were still holding their guns and they were aiming at Sherlock. Lestrade was holding a gun too. Mycroft looked at her. And Jane nodded.

She then looked down at Sherlock's face, his crying eyes, he looked so sad. She knelt until both were facing each other. Jane placed both of her hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes. Jane was dying to kiss him again, to caress his cheeks and run a hand on his soft curls.

But she could not do it.

She remembered she had a son who was fighting for his life. Jane remembered Hamish needed to be safe. And knowing her decision was going to break her heart and Sherlock's, Jane knew she had a son. And she had to protect him. It wasn't duty. It was love. Jane loved her son, and she was willing to give up everything if it meant her baby, Hamish, was going to be okay.

"I can't stay with you and I can't forgive you, Sherlock. I'm sorry - I just can't."

Everyone was silent.

Sherlock panicked. "Jane -"

Two policemen grabbed Sherlock by his arms, got him to his feet and pulled him away from Jane.

"Jane, I love you! Please!"

Jane shook her head. "I  _can't_  love you."

"But you promised it! You promised you would always love me!" begged he, and Jane couldn't fight her tears anymore.

"I don't want to see you again, Sherlock."

The policemen took Sherlock out the room.

"You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence," said Greg sharply, as he handcuffed the young detective. "Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on attempt murder, domestic violence and drugs possession."


	38. Death Will Never Conquer

Hamish spent more than three months into the NICU of Bart's hospital. During that time he grew stronger. His lungs were mature now and he didn't need a mechanical ventilator anymore. His heart was stronger too, and after three months, Hamish was a very healthy baby and the doctors considered he was ready to leave hospital and be with his mother.

The proud mother couldn't contain the tears on her eyes when she was told she could pick up Hamish in the afternoon.

But not only Hamish, but also Jane was healthy again. Her weak heart was stronger now and after the incident in which Sherlock almost killed himself in front of her and several policemen, Greg Lestrade and his brother Mycroft, Jane could finally recover. All the bruises faded away and the cuts on her body healed well. There were marks left on Jane's body, but she covered them with enough clothes to forget she was once beat by the person she loved and she considered was the love of her life.

Jane didn't cry a single tear more for Sherlock Holmes.

All her tears had a new owner, and that owner was her son, Hamish Watson. Most of those tears were tears of happiness. Her baby was growing stronger day after day, and the doctors told Jane he was going to be a very healthy boy in the future. A few days before Jane was told she could take Hamish with her, she was finally allowed to see him, touch him and be with him for the first time since he was born.

Hamish was beautiful.

He had fair hair and his skin was pale and soft. It looked like he had deep green eyes, but Jane knew the colour was going to change. Hamish had long fingers, and soft hands. He didn't cry much as other babies did, the nurses told Jane her baby was a sweetheart, a very calm and quiet baby.

Jane kissed his forehead and promised she was always going to be with him. "I'm your mummy, Hamish. And I love you so much, my baby."

When Hamish opened her eyes and looked at her, Jane's tears were endless.

Strangely enough, Hamish didn't look like his biological father at all. It was still early to think and see who he looked more like to. It was impossible, but very deep inside her heart, Jane knew her baby looked a lot like the man who once hit her - like Sherlock. Hamish had soft features and is hair was slightly curly. He looked a bit like Sherlock.

Jane decided she was not going to pronounce his name in front of her baby. Hamish would never know she was once friends with Sherlock Holmes. Nor he would know she was married to him and that he beat her and pushed her down the stairs causing them both endless pains.

"He's just beautiful like his mother, isn't he, Jane?"

She smiled at Greg. "Obviously, from who else would Hamish have taken his beauty from?"

Greg broke up with Suzanne weeks after Hamish was born. He could not stand her attitude towards Jane. Suzanne didn't even want to meet Hamish and that was what made Greg realise he could not love her anymore. Jane felt guilty and she knew her mother was hating her for it. Jane thought her mother was thinking she was the one to blame. But Greg told Jane there were plenty more things and that he wasn't leaving Suzanne because of that.

"You're right!," agreed he. "Are you going to see that flat? You know you can stay with me -"

"I've already arranged everything. I'm picking my things from Baker Street now before taking Hamish with me," said she, cutting Greg off. "You can come and visit when you want."

Greg bit his lip. "I don't like that place, Jane. It's not good for you and Hamish."

"It's big enough for us."

"Why don't you come with me, Jane? You won't need to pay any rent and you two will be fine."

"I can't Greg. I don't want my mum thinking the wrong thing," she smiled at him, weakly. "we'll fine."

Jane turned eighteen while she was still in hospital recovering. The very same day of her birthday she was given a letter from the Army saying her father had written her name in the Army Pensions papers in case something happened to him. As he died, Jane was going to be the one receiving a monthly pension. It wasn't enough money, but Jane knew she would have to get a job, or maybe more than one to pay the rent and support her baby.

"Have the doctor told you something about Hamish's hearing problem?"

Jane nodded. "Yes. They said he's going deaf in his right hear."

"God."

"The paediatrician says we've to wait till he's older. Apparently he will be able to hear," explained Jane calmly. "Apparently he will be able to hear like anyone else can."

Greg nodded. "Will that affect him somehow?"

"He will have learning issues at later development stages... and he'll probably need pedagogical help," said she, with pain in her voice. "I'll do my best for him. He will be fine."

Lestrade placed a hand on Jane's shoulder and smiled at her reassuringly.

Jane cried when she was alone. She blamed herself for all the things she knew Hamish would have to go through. He was going deaf in his right ear and he was going to have learning issues and problems in his speech. She blamed herself for it. The doctors told her it was caused for being a premature child and for the conditions of his birth; the stairs episode helped somehow. And Jane though marrying Sherlock and believing his lies were the worst things she could have done in her life because now Hamish was paying the consequences.

* * *

When Jane arrived at Baker Street, she had to fight tears back. That black door and the three shiny numbers reminded her of the day Sherlock showed the flat for the first time. It happened after they had bought Hamish a crib and some clothes. Jane had always considered Baker Street as the best place to live in, but right now it was the place where Jane didn't want to go back.

Mrs Hudson welcomed her with a tight hug. Jane was able to tell there were some tears too, but she preferred to ignore them.

Walking the stairs made her feel sick. Jane remembered herself falling, hitting her body and her pregnant bump, pressing her hands trying to feel her baby alive - and Sherlock staring at her.

She didn't want to stay much. Hurrying her steps, Jane went to the room she used to share with Sherlock to take all her clothes as quick as she could. Jane saw the room was just as she remembered it. Even the bed were they loved each other so much was untouched.

Jane opened the wardrobe and found it half empty. Sherlock's clothes were not there and Jane was not surprised. Everything had been taken, even the black shirt and the blue scarf she gave him for Christmas.

Quickly and without looking back, Jane took all her clothes, put them into her bag and closed the door of the room.

In the kitchen, Jane took her favourite mug and put it inside a box. On the sitting room, she took some of her maternity books from the bookshelves, her clarinet which had been a present from her father. There were some pictures of the day of her marriage. Jane glanced at one in which she was holding Sherlock's hand. She was smiling, Sherlock wasn't. Both looked in love, though.

Jane turned the picture and went to the room upstairs.

That room held so many memories. In that room Sherlock once knelt after her and kissed her belly. In that room she cried alone after Sherlock told her to stay away from that boy she met at Bart's. In that room Sherlock asked for forgiveness for the first time and both dreamt about Hamish.

Jane cried while looking at the room, at the crib, at the clothes they bought and at the small teddy bear Sherlock got for Hamish.

She was taking nothing.

Hamish needed clothes, a crib, nappies and a bottle. Even when all those things were there, Jane was taking nothing, she was not going to take them because all of them were paid with his money. And Jane didn't want anything from him.

She only took the blue hat her father left for Hamish and closed the door behind her back.

The last thing Jane looked at was a picture of her sitting on an old chair. It had been taken in the Holmes' backyard. Sherlock had taken the picture. Jane remembered that day. They had visited them for tea and they were alone on the backyard. It was a pretty, sunny day when she asked him to take the picture. Jane was sitting looking at the camera with both hands on her big pregnant bump and she was wearing that soft, loose blue dress she loved.  
She looked happy. It was the only thing Jane wanted to keep from the past.

As that picture was the only thing Jane wanted to keep from that past in which Sherlock had been part of her life, Jane took the wedding ring from inside her pocket and delicately placed it inside a white envelope with  _his_  name written on it and left it on his armchair.

Without looking back at the place where she had thought she would always in live with her husband and her son, Jane turned and closed the door behind her back and pretended to forget she once lived there.

Walking on the place she fell, where she pressed her hands over her belly to feel her baby alive, Jane wiped the tears off her face and swore she would never let anyone hurt her again. Nor Hamish.

"Where are you going, dear?"

"With my mum. I'll go back home with my mum," lied Jane. "We'll be fine."

"Aren't you going to take the crib and all those things?"

"No. They aren't mine and I can't take them."

Mrs Hudson sighed. "Those things are yours, dear."

"They belong to... to  _him_ , it was his money, not mine. Besides," said Jane as she took a last look to the place "My baby won't need them. We'll be fine on our own."

Mrs Hudson walked Jane to the door and hug her tightly. "Promise me you'll visit and that you'll bring your baby someday. I can't wait to meet him, dear!"

"Don't worry, Mrs Hudson. I'm sorry if I once caused you trouble."

"You never did, Jane. I'm sorry about what happened, I know what it's like. So anytime you need someone to talk to, you know where you can find me."

Jane hugged her landlady and successfully fought some tears back.

With a bag of clothes and a box full of little things and some good memories, Jane left Baker Street convinced there was still a future for her and Hamish.

* * *

Jane went to the hospital soon after she had finished cleaning her new flat and placed all her clothes into a proper place. Greg told her to call him because he wanted to drive her to the hospital and then back to her flat, but Jane turned off her phone. She wanted to do it alone. She wanted to pick her son up alone and be alone with him. She was starting a new life and she didn't want anyone's help.

When Jane arrived, the nurses had just finished giving him a bath.

"You didn't need to."

An old nurse smiled at her and handed her a lovely baby blue bag with baby clothes and nappies. There was a bottle too and some formula. Jane looked at her surprised.

"It's a present from all of us," explained she.

Jane shook her head. "I can't take it."

"It's for your baby, Jane."

"But -"

"Please Jane, take it. Your baby will need it."

Jane accepted their present and thanked all the nurses and doctors who helped her and Hamish. All of them told her they expected Hamish to be okay and grow strong and healthily.

Wiping the tears off her face, Jane took Hamish in her arms. With a bag in one hand and her baby in the other, Jane left hospital.

Looking down at her baby, Jane took a deep breath getting herself ready for, hopefully, a better life. She might have been alone with Hamish. But at least they were safe.

It was Jane and Hamish, the two of them against the world.


	39. God Put a Smile Upon Your Face

**Late April.**

"You and Hamish are going with me -  _now_."

Jane poured more tea. "Shut up, Greg. We're fine."

"This place is so tiny and you don't even have a heater! Where's Hamish sleeping?" asked he.

Jane knew Greg was right. She got for a very low price a small apartment in a block of flats in a not-so-very-nice part of London. It had a small kitchen with a table and two chairs and there was a middle-sized window in front of the sink. There was also a room with a single bed and a very small wardrobe and a small window. And finally a small bathroom and nothing else. It was indeed a very small place to live, but Jane assured Greg it was big enough for her and her baby.

"Actually, I got an electric heater and a nice crib for Hamish from a good charity shop. We're fine, Greg."

Greg looked at the place. It wasn't so bad. The walls were clean at least. The furniture looked old but it was nice. Still, he was worried for Jane and Hamish. The only money she had was her savings and the money from the Army pension. He knew it was not enough and he didn't want them to starve. Even though he knew Jane would never let that happen to her baby, Greg was worried for her.

"Listen," said Greg as he produced a fifty quid note from his wallet. "It's not much but -"

"I don't want your money."

"At least take it to buy nappies and formula."

Jane shook her head stubbornly. "I've got another job."

"Another one? What happened with the Chemist's shop?"

Jane got a job as a cashier at a Chemist's shop where she worked on Saturdays morning.

"I'm still working at the shop, but I got another one as a waitress in a very posh restaurant, you know, that one where famous people go?" Greg nodded. "Well, the money is good and the manager told me the tips are good too."

"And who'll look after Hamish?"

Jane sipped more of her tea. "The girl next door, you remember her right? Lucy? She didn't want money, but we've sorted it out."

"How old is she? Sixteen? Will she look after Hamish properly?"

"She's fifteen. Well, I asked myself the same but then I looked at his little sister who's got asthma. Apparently she takes care of her since she was as little as Hamish is and she's now five and she's still alive, so I guess Lucy will do fine."

Greg nodded, not totally convinced.

**A week before.**

Jane was walking back to her apartment after doing some shopping when she ran into Lucy, one of her neighbours. Jane knew the teenager lived with her father and her little sister, Kathy. Jane liked Lucy, she was clever and a very sweet girl.

"You look happy."

"Well, I've got another job," replied Jane.

"Congratulations. Need help?"

Lucy pointed at Jane's right hand. She was carrying two heavy shopping bags and pushing Hamish's pram with her left arm.

"Would you push Hamish, please?"

Lucy nodded. "I can take care of him if you want, when you work."

Jane bit her lip, not totally convinced and frowned. "I don't know..."

"Look, my little sis's got asthma and I take care of her since she was a baby like yours. She's five and she's still alive."

Jane knew her story, Lucy had told her before. Her mother died a year after her sister was born and since then Lucy's been taking care of her sister while her father was working most of the day.

"I guess that's proof enough. Still you haven't told me how much I'll have to pay you."

Lucy nodded. "I don't wan' money."

"Well then, you must want something. No one looks after a baby for free."

"Really Jane, it's fine. I love babies and kiddos. And yours always sleeps so I won't need to give him bottles or change his nappies - I can't charge you. I'll only watch telly while he's sleepin'."

Jane stared at the fifteen year old in front of her and after a couple of seconds her eyes lit up. As soon as they were in Jane's kitchen, she handed Lucy a sheet and a pencil.

"Write all you like; magazines, your sizes, favourite colour, favourite films or series, whatever."

"Why?" asked Lucy confused.

"You look after Hamish from Monday to Fridays - from six to ten everyday - and I get you something different every week."

One minute later Lucy handed the sheet back. Jane frowned. It only had two colours; red and pink, shirt's and tee's sizes and some names.

"Who's Ryan Gosling?"

"The hottest man alive. If you happen to see a magazine and he's on the cover -"

"I'll get it," said Jane. "I work at a Chemist's shop on Saturdays so I can get you some nail varnishes and make up too."

Lucy and Jane shook hands.

"Your baby won't complain."

"He can't even speak!"

**Mid April.**

Hamish was a very quite baby and he hardly cried.

And it was a bless and a curse, together.

It was a blessing when Jane had to revise for her entrance exam. She would sit in the small kitchen table of her tiny flat with her books and notes and Hamish would happily sleep in his modest crib. It scared Jane the fact Hamish hardly cried. He only did it when he needed a nappy change, or maybe when he needed a bottle what that was it.

And that was the curse.

Sometimes Jane wondered how much damaged Hamish was. He was still little for being a three month old baby, but she knew he was strong.

Having her baby sleeping in her arms, Jane cried wishing she would breastfeed him like she'd always dreamt, but the doctors told her she had to be given strong medicines when Hamish was born and because of the heart attack and that affected her breast milk. Also, Hamish spent three months inside an incubator and he was fed artificially with an special milk. So from that moment Jane was told Hamish was to be fed with special formula until he was able to eat normal food.

After reading so many maternity books Jane was ready for everything, so she didn't find maternity so problematic. A big plus was Hamish. He was so calm, such a good baby. He always slept when Jane needed to study.

She just wanted Hamish to be fine.

**Early May.**

Jane had Hamish in her arms. She was sitting in front of a doctor's desk and he was reading some medical reports. There was a frown between the doctor's brows and Jane was nervous. Opposite his mother, Hamish was calmly awake lying on the crook of Jane's right arm and staring at his mother in wonder.

"Tell me, Miss Watson, is there any cases of deafness, hearing problems in your family?"

"No."

"And in the father's family?"

Jane bit her lip. "I don't really know."

"Okay... um. I believe the causes of Hamish' hearing loss are due to his condition as a premature child. Technically speaking, he's a prelingual deaf individual."

"I'm sorry, what's that?"

"Is someone who was born with a hearing loss or someone whose hearing loss occurred before they began to speak."

"And... what about the tests? Is Hamish going to recover - I mean, he will hear again, will he?"

"The test are good," said he. "At least he won't need a cochlear implant. Hamish is going deaf in his right hear, which means he's not completely deaf. He will need a hearing aid."

Jane smiled at her baby. "And when could he use one?"

"That's the problem. We'll have to wait until he's older enough to perform an audiometry, which measures his hearing levels in laboratory conditions."

**Late June.**

"Your UKCAT test is impressive, Miss Watson. Your grade allows you to get the scholarship as well."

Jane nodded. Her expression was serious, though inwardly she was quite happy. After studying, quite hard, for months, she gathered some courage and applied for Med School and for a scholarship. She was visiting Greg when she got the phone call and was told she had passed the exam with top marks - the highest marks in fact - and that she was awarded with a scholarship which was going to aid her education.

Now she was facing a panel of five professors, and she knew it was the last step to get into Med School.

"Here it says you have a son," said another professor as he adjusted his heavy glasses. "How old is he?"

"Five months."

A female professor cleared her throat. "We're looking for students who can focus on their studies."

"I wonder if you will be able to take care of your family and study," finished the man with the heavy glasses.

"I... He'll be going to a day care nursery."

"What Professor Lange is trying to say is that we're looking for students who will indeed study and work hard," said another professor.

Jane started panicking. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "I want to be a doctor, sir. And I want to help people. I'm studying very hard, you can see that in my exam. I...," Jane looked at the men and women sitting in front of her. "If you please give me a chance I promise you I won't disappoint you."

There was a short silence until the professor with the heavy glasses waved his hand. "Thank you, Miss Watson."

She stood up from her chair, slightly disappointed for herself.

But before she could open the door, she heard a female voice calling her name.

"See you in September, Miss Watson."

**Mid July.**

"Your father doesn't know about you looking after Hamish, does he?"

Jane arrived early that day. In Lucy's apartment, she found the teenager watching the news and her little sister Katy sleeping next to her on the sofa. A few feet away was Hamish, peacefully sleeping on his pram.

"No. If I tell him he won't say anything, but he'd want me to charge you," explained Lucy.

"What does he do?"

"He's a cabbie. He works late because he says that's when he gets good tips."

Jane nodded. "That's awfully true. Oh, got you this."

She handed Lucy a film magazine with his hero Ryan Gosling on the cover. Lucy's eyes were as wide as saucers. The magazine was an expensive one and it had a poster too.

"But it's not Friday," replied the young teenager. They had arranged Jane would get her something on Fridays.

"Happy Birthday, Lucy."

**Early September.**

"I can't let you pay for this, Greg. It's a lot of money!"

Both were sitting together in a nice coffee shop. Jane was holding Hamish with her right arm and looking at the special day care nursery leaflets. It was a nice place for children with hearing problems and another disabilities. The fee was high, and Greg insisted on paying for that place so Hamish would be there on the mornings while Jane was in class.

"You need someone to look after Hamish in the mornings so you can go to class. This place is good and I've investigated myself, you don't need to worry."

Jane shook her head. "It's a lot of money! I mean -"

"It'll be okay, Jane."

"You won't accept a 'no', right?"

Greg nodded.

"Thank you Greg, you've been so good to us," said she as she looked at her baby. "You've been like a father to me."

The policemen kissed Jane's forehead. "If you need anything, just tell me, Jane. Promise me you'll tell me."

"Okay."

**Late September.**

"That's all for today," said the Anatomy professor. "Read from page 60 to 110 and prepare your questions, have a nice weekend."

All the students left the classroom but Jane was still on her place writing down the last notes when she felt someone looking at her. It was a tall man of pale skin and dark hair. He looked familiar...

"Jane? Jane it's you?"

"Bill Murray?"

He nodded. "Wow, I didn't expect to see you here!"

Bill kissed her cheek and both shared a smile. Jane placed all her books and her pens into her bag. She took her walking stick and carried her bag with her right arm. A few days before she started feeling a severe pain on her left shoulder and she started limping too.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, it's just my stupid leg," replied she and both made their way out of the empty classroom.

"Which subjects are you taking?"

"Um... Anatomy, Physiology, Psychiatry and Histology."

Bill's eyes widened. "That's a lot! I'm taking the same, minus Psychiatry. I - I can't believe I haven't seen you before."

"Well, I always sit in the back of the class."

He looked at her watch. "Hey, why don't you join me for lunch? I'm going to 'The King's Arms' with some guys," said Bill as he pointed at the pub at the end of th street. "They're all good people, it'll be fun!"

Jane considered it for a second, she knew Bill was a good guy and his friends were surely good people too, but she had another things to do. "I have to pick up my son."

"Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot! How's your baby?"

Jane smiled proudly. "He's fine. He's going to be nine months old in a week."

"Good! What's his name?"

"Hamish."

"That's a lovely name. I'd like to meet him one day," said Bill with a sincere smile.

Jane nodded. "Sure."

"Well, I'll see you next Monday then, hope you can join me then."

"I'll try."

"It was really nice to see you, Jane."

Jane waved her hand. "Bye, have fun. It was nice to see you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .Prelingual deaf individual: someone who was born with a hearing loss or someone whose hearing loss occurred before they began to speak.
> 
> .Cochlear implant: Is a surgically implanted electronic device that provides a sense of sound to a person who is profoundly deaf or severely hard of hearing.
> 
> .Audiometry: Is the science of measuring hearing acuity for variations in sound intensity and pitch and for tonal purity, involving thresholds and differing audiometric tests determine a subject's hearing levels with the help of an audiometer.
> 
> .UKCAT (UK Clinical Aptitude Test): Is a test that is beginning to be used in the selection process by a consortium of UK university Medical and Dental Schools.
> 
> .About Jane's med school: The interview with the professors is quite invented by me, so the fact she's got a scholarship.  
>  Also, the fact that she's taking Anatomy, Physiology, Psychiatry and Histology as the first subjects in her first year is my own decision so it might be inaccurate. Though, those are the very first subjects in med school in my country, so it might differ from the med schools in the UK.


	40. Don't Panic

**Early November.**

"Thanks for the lunch."

Jane smiled at Lucy. "Today's my day off. I was wondering if you and Katy wanted to come with me and Hamish."

"Where you goin'?"

"I'm visiting an old lady, then I'm going to the uni library and I need to get new clothes for Hamish."

"Sure."

Jane really loved Lucy and Katy. The former was very mature for her age and the latter behaved well. Both girls were quite, calm and adorable in their own way. Hamish behaved too, in all the way to Baker Street he peacefully looked at his surroundings without crying or doing any noise.

Jane got several aww looks. There were people who walked past her without even looking, but old ladies turned to look at the young girl and her baby. She knew she looked younger than she was, but Jane didn't want to look like a girl. She was eighteen now and she had a son. She wasn't a young girl anymore, she wasn't that young girl who liked to play cluedo or read novels. She was all a woman now and she was strong.

"My God, your baby is lovely!" Said Mrs Hudson as soon as she met Hamish.

And Hamish seemed to like her too because he giggled at the faces the old landlady did. With extreme and softly movements, Mrs Hudson took the baby in her arms and smiled at him. Being as calm as he was, Hamish spent a god minutes in the landlady's arms without crying.

Jane invited Mrs Hudson to Speedy's and the old lady agreed, inwardly knowing Jane didn't want to be in the building, and both shared tea and biscuits, Lucy and Katy had a milkshake and Hamish had a bottle.

"How are you doing, dear?"

"Good. I'm studying very hard and I'm working too. We're... Great," admitted Jane.

Mrs Hudson filled Jane in with all the gossip around Baker Street and Jane told her about her jobs and her friends.

"Have you rented 221 B, Mrs Hudson?"

The old lady shook her head. "Sherlock's older brother insist on keeping those rooms. It's a deposit now, you know, filled with Sherlock's books and experiments. I asked, but you know that man -"

"Mrs Hudson, I'm sorry but I need to go to the library soon," said Jane, cutting Mrs Hudson off. She didn't want to know about Mycroft, even less about Sherlock. "I need some books to revise for my exams."

And the ex landlady understood.

Jane, Lucy, Katy and Hamish left and Jane promised Mrs Hudson she was going to stop by soon again.

In the uni library Jane took the books she needed and then they headed to the shops. Jane was buying simple things, noting expensive. She was trying to find a nice jacket and some jumpers for Hamish when Lucy asked her about Sherlock.

"Sherlock is your ex, right?"

Jane nodded. There was an absent look on her eyes and Lucy saw that.

"Where's he?"

"I don't know."

"And he doesn't want to see his baby?"

Jane shook her head. "It's better for Hamish and for me if we don't see him again," replied Jane sharply.

Lucy frowned. "Was he bad to you?"

Jane didn't say anything and continued looking for baby clothes.

"That's why I don't want to fall in love. Men are bad."

Jane thought about it. Men weren't bad. Her father hadn't been bad, in fact, John Watson had been the sweetest, loveliest and perfect man Jane had ever known. And she didn't think that because he was her father. Greg was a good man too, he was always helping her, making himself sure she and her baby were fine. They were good men and Jane was grateful for having them in her life.

But she also had to met bad men. Sam Sawyer broke her heart, he used her and he hurt her too. Then Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes had been the man who hurt her in the most painful way possible. He promised her love, but he hit her, he abused her, Sherlock told Jane he hated her and he almost killed her and her baby.

She knew she didn't have the best history with men, but Jane didn't want Lucy to think love and men are bad.

They are good, love and men. The thing is, you need to find love. And you need to find a good man.

And you need to make the right choices.

"That's not true. My dad wasn't a bad man. Is your dad bad?"

Lucy shook her head. "He's good."

"See? Not all men are bad. I guess I was the stupid one. I didn't make the right choices."

"I don't think you're stupid."

Jane smiled. "Here, help me try these jackets on Hamish."

After an hour or so Jane was carrying a bag with new winter clothes for Hamish and a tee for Lucy and another one for Katy.

"You didn't need to, Jane."

"It's okay."

Both were walking past a charity shop when Lucy grabbed Jane's arm. "Look that dress!"

Jane looked at it. It was a blue dress, it had a nice cut and it looked pretty.

"It's nice," said Jane.

"Let's go in! You should definitely try it on!"

Jane stepped out the changing room. "How do I look?"

"You look so pretty, you should definitely buy it," said Lucy.

Jane looked at the tag.

"Come on Jane, you never get anythin' for you!"

"But..."

Lucy smiled. "Bet with this dress that Bill guy will ask you out for a date."

"He's my friend!"

"Yeah yeah, keep saying that!" Lucy giggled.

Jane really liked the dress and Lucy was right, it had been ages since she last got something for herself.

Finally, Jane bought it.

**Late November - Early December.**

"Hey Jane, I was wondering... Where are you and Hamish spending Christmas?"

Jane and Bill were having lunch at 'The King's Arms' and killing some time before another class in the afternoon.

"We're spending the 24th and the 25th at Greg's, you know him right?"

Bill nodded. "Oh yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Yes, what about you? Are you going to Essex?"

Due to Bill's divorced parents he didn't want to spend Christmas with neither of them. Both had new partners and Bill liked neither, and because of that he didn't have the best relationship with his parents.

"I'm staying in London."

"You can stay with us if you want," said she. "Greg's house is pretty big."

Bill shook his head. "No, I mean - I appreciate it but I don't want to interrupt or -"

"It'll be fine. Greg likes you."

"Does he? I thought... I'm sorry Jane, I thought - are you together?"

Jane almost choked on her juice. "What? No! Greg is like a father to me."

"Sorry! But he's always calling you and sometimes he picks you up so I thought..."

"Greg used to be my mum's boyfriend. Then - well, they split up, and my mum and I... Well, since my dad's died Greg has become sort of... A father to me," explained she.

Billy nodded. After a while, he asked again.

"And what happened to your husband, if you don't mind me asking? I've just remembered when we first met, you said you were married."

"We divorced."

"And are you still in touch since then, I mean - does he see Hamish regularly?" Asked him, a bit insecure about asking so many questions.

"I don't really know where he is. I haven't seen him since Hamish was born."

"I'm sorry."

Jane faked a smile. "Let's go, class will start soon."

**Mid December.**

"Wait! I think he's trying to say something!"

Both Jane and Lucy stared at Hamish. He was on his high chair and Jane was trying to feed him. It was a cold November noon and Hamish seemed to be struggling to say his first word.

Hamish was a healthy baby of eleven months old by now. He had greenish-blueish eyes and pale skin. His hair was fair and curly. Hamish had the sweetest smile and laughter Jane had ever seen and heard. He could crawl all around the tiny flat and he liked to play with stuffed animals and shake his rattle and make loud sounds. Every time Jane called his name, Hamish didn't turn. He never did until Jane was very close so he could hear her voice.

"Mmmmhhh," mumbled the baby.

"Come on Hamish, say 'mummy'!"

"Mmmmmhhh."

Jane sighed defeated and continued feeding her baby.

After almost a year, Suzanne never called Jane. Jane missed her mother so much, she wished she could meet her grandchild and see how lovely and sweet Hamish was. But she never called and Jane just gave up. She wanted to call her mother, or pay her a visit but Jane was afraid of how her mother could react. So she just gave up. However, instead of worrying, Jane focused on her baby and her studies. Hamish was healthy and she's got top marks in all the subjects she was taking. Most of her professors praised her hard work and all her classmates were very fond of her.

Jane's got a nice group of friends who helped her lots and who truly liked her. Though Bill Murray was his closest friend. He knew all about Jane, even about Sherlock. He sometimes visited Jane and both studied together and he loved Hamish.

Lucy continued looking after Hamish. And after so long, Jane finally felt in peace and happy again. She felt everything was working perfectly. Still having two jobs and going to university and raising a child was hard, but Jane knew she could do anything.

"He can't hear, can he?"

"He's going deaf on his right ear," explained Jane.

"And what happened to his father, Jane?"

Jane sighed inwardly. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Sorry about that, but you work all the time, you go to university and take care of your baby... it must be hard," said Lucy.

"It is. But if it wasn't for Greg, my friends and you I wouldn't be able to do it."

Lucy smiled at Jane. The teenager was very fond of Jane and she was always helping her once school work was done. Lucy really liked Hamish and she loved looking after him when Jane had to work.

"And that Bill bloke? Is he your boyfriend?"

"Bill? No! He's my friend!"

Lucy laughed. "Oi Jane, you're blushing!"

"He's my friend, and believe me, I don't want to know anything about men."

"You're pretty. You should have a boyfriend."

Jane didn't say anything and washed the dishes. She pullet the books out of her bag and started studying.

**December 24th**

"Hello Bill, nice to see you!"

Bill shook hands with Greg Lestrade. He helped Jane with the pram and Hamish and soon the three of them were sitting on Greg's dinner table having some drinks before dinner. There were also some policemen, Greg's friends and some relatives too.

"Look at this gorgeous thing," said Greg. "Does he walk?"

Jane smiled. "He's trying to. I take his hands and help him to walk around the table sometimes. He can stand up by himself."

Indeed Hamish was able to stand up by himself. He was a very clever baby and he was mumbling his first words too.

They had a pleasant dinner and they all went to bed before midnight.

**December 25th**

For Christmas lunch Jane went downstairs wearing that blue dress she got last month and Hamish was impeccably dressed as well. She was greeted by Bill and Greg who were cooking.

Greg took Hamish in his arms and went to the living room where the tree was, leaving Bill and Jane alone.

"You look beautiful, Jane."

_"You look beautiful, Jane."_

_"Thank you. I've been putting on a lot of weight recently, I look like a whale."_

_"But you're a beautiful whale to me."_

_"That's a bit not good, Sherlock."_

Jane fought some tears back. "I - thank you, Bill."

_"It's our first Christmas together as a couple, Sherlock."_

_"I know."_

_"And next year we'll spend Christmas with our baby."_

_"With Hamish,"_

They opened their presents before lunch. Jane got Greg a new shirt and a nice bag for Bill.

"You shouldn't have," said the young man.

Greg got Jane a new computer and clothes for Hamish.

"I hope you like it, I wasn't sure about it but - well, open it!" said Bill as he handed Jane a small velvet box.

Jane's eyes widened. It was a nice necklace with a silver mother and child pendant.

"It's beautiful."

Bill smiled. "Here, let me help you."

He helped Jane with the necklace and Jane was really happy. She didn't cry, even when she wanted to. It was a lovely gift and after a long time, Jane felt really happy again.

_"Merry Christmas, Jane."_

_"Merry Christmas, Sherlock. I know it's the first of many more with you and our son."_

"Merry Christmas, Jane."

Jane kissed Bill's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Bill."

**January 7th**

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Hamish, happy birthday to you!" **  
**

Lucy, Katy, Greg, Bill and Jane sang to the birthday boy. It was Hamish first birthday and all of them were at Jane's tiny flat stain around the table and clapping their hands. Baby Hamish was smiling and giggling and pointing at the little candle in front of him.

Hamish extended his little arms. "Mu-mmy!"

Hamish said his first word on Christmas day, and his first word was addressed to his mother. His first word was  _Mummy_.

Jane was happy for her baby. He could walk a few steps by himself and he was learning new words, though he only said 'mummy'. He was still deaf in his right ear. But his heart was strong, and he was very healthy.

All of them were eating cake when someone knocked Jane's door.

"Jane Watson?"

She nodded at the postman. "Yes."

"This is for you," said the man as he handed Jane a small parcel and a letter. "Please, sign here."

Jane frowned. The parcel and the letter didn't have the sender's name. She signed the papers, but before going back to her son's birthday party, she caught her breath.

It was Sherlock's handwriting.


	41. Only Superstition

Jane didn't sleep that night. She spent the whole night thinking whether she should open the letter and the parcel or not.

What if Sherlock was still alive out there? What if he was sending her a threat? After the incident in which the police took him away, Mycroft tried to talk to her but Jane refused to hear a single thing more about Sherlock. But she didn't present charges, so Jane thought maybe Mycroft kept his word and took Sherlock away from her and got him into rehab.

Was he trying to apologise? Jane shook her head. Sherlock would never apologise. He had pride, he was clever. Even though those things didn't give him the right, Jane knew those were reasons enough for Sherlock not to apologise.

Nevertheless, the next morning Jane took both, the parcel and the letter, and after leaving Hamish in the day care nursery and before going to class, she stopped at Mycroft Holmes' office.

"I want to see Mycroft Holmes."

The woman glanced at her from head to toes. Jane knew she was not wearing her best clothes, she was only wearing a pair of blue jeans, a dark jumper and her worn jacket and her university bag.

"Do you have an appointment with Mr Holmes?"

"No."

"Then I can't let you -"

"Tell him I'm Jane Watson," insisted Jane.

The secretary dialed a number and waited. Jane observed that a soon as the secretary pronounced her name, she was allowed to go in.

When Jane stepped into the office, Mycroft stood from his chair and extended his hand. "Jane, nice to see you. Please, sit down."

Jane didn't mind the posh carpet under her feet, nor the expensive paintings or the ridiculous red telephone on Mycroft's desk. The smell of expensive whiskey, and Mycroft's perfume wasn't a good mix either.

"Can I offer you a cup of tea, coffee maybe?"

"This," said Jane as she threw the parcel and the letter over Mycroft's desk. "I want you to tell me how he got my address."

"Please, have a seat," insisted he.

"I don't want to sit," said Jane, stubbornly. "I want you to explain this."

Mycroft took the parcel. "May I?"

Jane nodded.

Using a small knife, Mycroft opened the parcel. It had a blue knitted jumper big enough for a one-year-old child. Jane looked surprised, Mycroft only stared at it, but he was not surprised.

"Is he insane? How the hell does he have my address and who does he think he is to send my son a jumper - it was you, wasn't it? You've been spying on me!" hissed Jane, angrily.

Mycroft folded the little jumper and put it aside. "Jane -"

"No, Mycroft, don't tell me that shit again. If this is his attempt to apologise, tell him he's far from it."

"Jane, Sherlock has not been informed about Hamish' condition."

Truth to be told, Sherlock was ever told about Hamish' health condition. Even when he asked, he could not be told because of the rehab process. Doctor had advised Mycroft not to tell Sherlock a word about his past and about the people who were part of it - about Jane and Hamish. According to the doctors, Sherlock's mind was fragile, he'd been close to lost his own mind and all his senses.

Every time Mycroft visited Sherlock, he always asked him about Jane and Hamish. How they were, what was Jane doing, if she had a new partner, how was Hamish doing, if he was already walking, which had been his first word... Mycroft told Sherlock he had to work and that he had more political plans to look at instead of following Jane. But that was a lie because Mycroft knew all about Jane. He knew all about Hamish too. Mycroft knew about Jane's neighbours, about her friends, he knew all about her jobs at the Chemist's shop and at the restaurant as a waitress. But Mycroft knew Sherlock could not be told a word about them; about Jane and her little son Hamish.

She shrugged. "Fine - no, you know what? You should tell him. Whenever he is right now he should be told what he did to my son."

"He can't be told. His condition is not the best -"

"And?" asked Jane angrily, cutting Mycroft off. "I don't care. He needs to know what he had done!"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "Jane please."

Jane reluctantly sat in front of Mycroft.

"Sherlock had an overdose before I could get him into rehab. He almost died."

"My son almost died too."

Mycroft ignored that. "It'll be a year since he has been into drug rehabilitation. He's overcoming all the treatments, counseling and according to the doctors he will be able to leave the clinic, visit our family... and he wants to see you."

"I don't want to see him again. I thought I'd been clear," snapped she. **  
**

"I've been told it is important for him to see you. The psychiatrists have been informed about your relationship with Sherlock and what happened between you. They said Sherlock is regretful. He's sorry for what he had done and he needs to see you."

Jane curled her lips, sarcastically. "So you're trying to say that Sherlock is sorry, that he wants to see me and that's important to him?"

"It is important for his  _treatment_."

"No."

"No?"

Jane stood up and took her bag getting herself ready to leave. "Tell him I don't want to see him."

She turned and made her way to the door.

"You still love him."

Jane didn't say anything.

**A year later.**

Many things changed in a year. Hamish turned two years old one cold day of January and this time he had a nice birthday party at the day care nursery with all his little friends. Jane was there, so Greg who was now like a real father to Jane and Bill, her closest friend. All the kids sang birthday songs to little Hamish and they ate the cake Jane baked. After that, they all played different games. Jane was indeed very happy for her son and took a lot of pictures.

After all the things he had to go through, Hamish was a healthy, normal boy like any other child. His heart was strong, and he had been given a hearing aid a few months ago, so now he could hear well. He still had some speech problems and his vocabulary was limited. Jane worked very hard to help her son, but she knew this was inevitable. He also had some learning problems and Jane was advised to look for special schools and pedagogical aid too. Hamish was a very quiet, shy boy and that was not good. However, Jane knew her son had the best mother and every time Jane felt tired, she looked at her son and remembered he was the reason she was fighting for.

Life in university was not easier either, but Jane spent most of her free time with her son studying and her grades were good enough to keep the scholarship. Jane had the best grades of her class and all the professors praised her hard work. No one could believe her. She was a single mum, she had two jobs and she lived with little money but she was brilliant and she didn't give up.

However, some things were still being the same. Every month Jane got a new letter from Sherlock, and every month Jane burned it. Jane never opened his letters. She didn't care what could be written inside.

"Mummy, want... want home," said Hamish in his mother's arms.

Jane hugged her son tightly. She took his hand and both made their way back home. As Hamish was big for his old pram and Jane wasn't able to carry him because of his bad shoulder, both walked hand in hand to the bus stop. "Did you enjoy your birthday, Hamish?"

The little boy nodded, making his curls bounce over his forehead. "Tired, mummy."

"I'm tired too, baby. Do you want mummy to read you a story before going to bed?"

Hamish nodded. He slept the whole way back home and Jane had to carry him to her apartment. Once inside their room, Jane placed her son delicately on his tiny bed and ran a hand over his soft hair.

Jane was grateful Hamish looked a lot like her father. He didn't look like Sam at all, and that made Jane feel relieved. Still, he had curls and blueish eyes - and that reminded her of Sherlock. Jane could tell he looked a bit like him, and it was impossible because he was not Hamish biological father. Jane just wanted her son to be nothing like Sherlock. She knew her son was going to be a good man.

"Do you want me to look after him tomorrow?" asked Lucy.

"No. I was fired from the Chemist's shop."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. They didn't need me anymore I guess," explained Jane.

"Sorry to hear that. You still working at the restaurant, right?"

Jane nodded. Her wage and the tips were good, still she needed that job at the Chemist's. She was trying to save some money to move and get a bigger apartment so Hamish could have his own room to play and everything, but now she had been fired Jane knew her plans would have to wait.

"Couldn't your father help?" asked Lucy, referring herself to Greg Lestrade.

"He's got a girlfriend and she's moved with him. I don't want to impose. And I think she doesn't like me."

"That sucks!"

"We'll be fine."

* * *

It was a hot day of August when Sherlock returned to England. The flight back to London with the security guards had been hateful, and Sherlock was impatient to go back and see Jane again.

Sherlock spent two years and seven moths in drugs rehabilitation in the States. In that clinic he got himself clean and he managed to understand his own mind. After Lestrade took him away from Jane, Sherlock overdosed. He spent two full weeks in hospital before Mycroft put him into a private plane and got him into rehab.

It was still a whole process. It wasn't easy to just stop injecting and snorting. It was not easy when he had to be alone, in a foreign country, away from the people he loved - away from Jane. His parent's visits were not helpful and after all the things they said about Jane, Sherlock decided he would not see them again. It did not matter how many times Sherlock told them, Elizabeth and Richard would not understand he chose to be with her, he chose to be her baby's father and he chose Jane. Even when Sherlock told them all the things he did to Jane, his parents wouldn't believe him.

Every time he asked, Mycroft told him the same; that he did know nothing about Jane and her baby, that he was working on politics, not on spying people and that if he ever wanted to go back to England and see Jane again, he would have to get himself clean. Sherlock didn't need to be asked twice. Sherlock wanted Jane back and he knew she would only be back to him if he quit cocaine. And he was determined to be with her again. Sherlock was determined to get Jane back and that's the reason why he let people help him.

And Hamish. God, Sherlock was dying to meet Hamish. Sherlock could not wait to meet Hamish. He knew the boy was now two years and seven months old. He also knew he was not his son, biologically speaking, but Sherlock always felt him as if he had always been his real child. Sherlock wanted to hug him, kiss him, hold him in his arms and tell him he was his father.

Sherlock could not wait to go to Baker Street and see Jane again and meet Hamish.

"Do you remember what she told you before you overdosed?" asked Mycroft, talking about the episode in which Sherlock aimed a gun to his head and begged Jane to go back to him. Sherlock nodded. "Please brother, do not raise your expectations."

"I want to see her."

Mycroft sighed. "Your old rooms are available. I've already talked to your landlady."

"She's not living there."

The older Holmes nodded. "Here we are," said Mycroft as soon as the car stopped at 221 Baker Street. As soon as his little brother was inside the building, Mycroft went back to his office.

Now it was time for Sherlock to prove not only to everyone but to himself he could stay clean.

And get his life back.

Sherlock looked into Mrs Hudson's old eyes. He was slightly afraid of her reactions. Mrs Hudson had been a victim of domestic abuse, he had seen marks on her arms and he had helped her a few years back. Sherlock brought back those memories in which he wondered how a man who loved his wife could beat her, and that was exactly what he did. He loved Jane and he beat her.

To his own surprise, Mrs Hudson hugged him tightly.

"Sherlock! Goodness, how are you?"

Sherlock smiled at her sincerely. "I'm better."

Before anything, Sherlock apologised to his ex landlady and he explained her what he had done in the last two years and a half abroad. He told her about the clinic, about the people there and about his recovery process. Mrs Hudson told him she had faith in him and that she knew this time he was going to be fine.

"I'll let you alone so you can unpack your things."

Once alone, Sherlock looked at the place. It was just as he remembered it. Everything was clean and he found a few microphones and some cameras hidden. He knew beforehand that Mycroft was bugging the flat and he knew it was for his own good - this time, Sherlock didn't complain about Mycroft's concern.

The kitchen was clean and his old experiments were gone. Sherlock walked to his room and found it half empty. All the furniture, everything was in place, but Jane things were gone. The wardrobe was empty and Sherlock couldn't find the soft jumpers he remembered she liked to wear.

Sherlock looked at the bed and remembered the nights when he made love to Jane, when he loved her and when he used to kiss her lips and whisper sweet things to her ear. He sat on his side of the bed and a ran a hand over Jane's side. Immediately, Sherlock imagined Jane's peaceful silhouette, it was a vague memory of the nights she used to sleep next to him, her soft breathing, her long, fair and sandy hair and her porcelain skin. Sherlock remembered all their moments together on that bed and heavy tears escaped his eyes.

_"Sherlock."_

_"Are you OK?"_

_"I think so, yes."_

_"Should I call your doctor, or -"_

_"No, no - it's fine. I'm fine, I think... I think the baby is kicking."_

_Sherlock placed a hand on Jane's belly and waited. A few seconds later, he felt something moving under his touch. Their baby was kicking._

In that bed both loved each other, in that bed both shared funny moments too. And it that same bed, their baby kicked inside Jane's belly for their first time.

Sherlock left his bags on the room and ran to the room upstairs. To his surprise, everything was there. The crib, the tiny clothes they had got for Hamish, the nappies, the toys, the bottles and the stuffed animals, everything was there untouched. Even the scans were still there. Everything they had got together was still there.

But there was still something left for Sherlock.

On the sitting room, he found a white envelope with his name written on it - by Jane's handwriting.

Sherlock opened it and found a wedding ring. It was still polished. His brain told him what he already knew; the owner of that ring had strong sentiments, feelings for her husband, that's why the ring looked new and it had been polished regularly.

It was Jane's wedding ring.

* * *

It was a sunny Saturday and Jane knew it was a perfect day to take Hamish to the park. She wanted to revise a bit more before uni started again, and she knew they needed some air. In the way to the park, Jane told Hamish they were going to a park where he would be able to play with another kids and that she needed to study.

Both mother and son were walking hand in hand through the park looking for a bench to sit down when Jane felt someone calling her name.

"Jane? Jane Watson?"

She turned and faced an overweight man with glasses.

"I'm Mike Stamford!" said the young man, smiling excited. "We studied together."

Jane nodded remembering. They were in the same class in that old school she used to go before moving after she had that awful car accident. "Oh yes, sorry Mike, sorry."

"I know, I've got fat."

"No..." said Jane, shaking her head and smiling

"I heard you got hurt in a car accident, what happened?"

"I got hurt."

Mike looked at her and nodded. "Oh... um, want a coffee?"

Mike Stamford, being all a gentleman, paid for their coffees and both sat together on a bench. Mike told Jane about his secondary school years, about their old classmates, about his girlfriend and uni.

"I can't believe I haven't seen you before!"

"I always sit in the back of the class," explained she.

Mike looked at Hamish who was calmly playing with his ball a few feet from them. "Oh, are you babysitting?"

Jane smiled at her son. "No, he's my son."

Mike's eyes widened. Jane only told him she was a single mum and that she was looking for a new place to live because her situation was not good. She'd lost her job at the Chemist's shop and even though her job as a waitress gave her good money, she knew she needed a bigger place to live because Hamish was growing up and he also needed a healthier environment.

"Couldn't Harry help?"

"That'd never happen."

After what happened between Suzanne and Jane Harry took sides and she obviously stood by their mother's side and since then Jane and Harry were not in touch.

"You could get a flat share or something," suggested Mike.

Jane ran a hand over Hamish's curls. "C'mon. Who'd want me and my baby?" Mike laughed. "What?"

"Well you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Who's the first?"

For some strange reason, Mike didn't tell Jane about the man he knew was looking for a flatmate. He only said he knew him since they were toddlers and that they'd met again a few days before. Mike said the man was a decent bloke, a bit quiet, but he was indeed a good man.

Mike said he was surely working on one of Bart's labs and both went there to meet him. They were close to the door of the lab room when Mike's phone went off.

"I'm going right now!"

Jane frowned. "Is everything alright?"

"My girlfriend. She said her mother is in hospital," explained he. "But go in, I'm sure he's there. Tell him you talked to me."

"But Mike -"

"He's a good bloke. Good luck, Jane!" said Mike and left.

Jane looked down at Hamish. She tightened the grip on his hand and opened the lab door.

* * *

Sherlock was grateful to his brother, inwardly, and he was not going to admit it. Mycroft had pulled some strings and got him access to the lab rooms in Barts. They were big, they had all the elements and things he needed. Mrs Hudson made him promise he was not going to keep his experiments on her kitchen table, and Sherlock had to fulfill.

Being in those labs and performing those complicated but fascinating experiments were what he needed to keep himself busy and not bored. Now more than ever Sherlock needed to avoid boredom and keep himself busy. That was one of the reasons why he set up his website again and he was taking cases. Most were quite domestic and people didn't understand his job; he was not the kind of detective who would spy on unfaithful husbands or wives. He was a consulting detective and he was the kind of man who was ready to go beyond everything and look for clues where people couldn't.

But after what happened, Sherlock knew he was not going to work with the Scotland Yard again. Lestrade punched him hard and almost broke his nose after he'd been arrested in front of Jane. Greg told asked him how he dare to hit Jane. So when Sherlock felt the Detective Inspector's fist on his face, he knew he deserved it.

So Sherlock knew he would have to get used to domestic cases, at least they were good enough to keep his mind working - and to keep himself away from cocaine.

Looking away from the microscope, Sherlock glanced at the door. He could see a woman outside - apparently Mike got him a flatmate. They had talked about it when they met again. Sherlock never thought Mike would get into med school but there he was, carrying some books and waiting for a class when Sherlock ran into him.

Sherlock met Mike when they were little kids. Their mothers went to the same hairdresser's and both went to the same nursery. It was a total surprise for both to see each other after so many years. During their brief talk Sherlock commented on his need of a flatmate and Mike seemed to have found him one.

It was not a difficult leap.

* * *

"I'm sorry but children are not allowed to go in - Jane?"

Jane looked back. It was Molly Hooper.

"Molly?"

"Oh my God Jane, it's been so long! How are you? Is he your son? What are you doing here? Oh sorry, I'm asking too many questions!"

Jane looked at Molly Hooper. She looked just like Jane remembered her, but she was a bit taller now. She had her long hair on a ponytail, and she was wearing a long white coat. She was holding a mug with coffee and she was blushing.

"I'm fine, thanks. Yes, this is my son Hamish," said Jane as she made a gesture with her head. "Hamish, say hello to the lady."

Hamish offered his tiny hand. "He...hello," said he, a bit struggled with his speech.

"Wow, he's so lovely!" Said Molly as she took his hand and smiled at him.

"You work here?"

"Yes, well, you remember I used to work here with my dad. He passed away a few months ago," explained she. "I'm work here cleaning and keeping the labs in order - as a part time job. I'm studying Forensic Pathology."

Jane smiled. "I'm sorry for your loss. Um, it's incredible - I ran into an old friend who also studies here and I've never seen him. Nor you."

"Well, uni is big. Oh! Are you here to see Sherlock?"

"What?"

Molly opened the door of the lab and both stepped in. Jane looked at the man impeccably dressed behind a microscope.

It was Sherlock.


	42. Everything's Not Lost

The door was open, Sherlock didn't look up, he continued working on the microscope.

"Here's your coffee, Sherlock," said Molly as she let the mug on the lab counter. "I need to go before Professor Livingston finds me doing nothing!" said Molly, a bit worriedly and left the lab room, leaving Jane and Sherlock alone.

"Mu...mummy I wanna par-k - park," mumbled Hamish and Sherlock turned surprised.

It was Jane.

Both looked into each other's eyes for he first time in more than two years. There was a long silence and neither of them seemed to know what to say. Both stared at each other's eyes. Sherlock's gaze was on Jane, he was looking at that Jane Watson in front of him, Sherlock was trying to find that Jane he had within his mind and heart, but that Jane was gone. She looked so different. She was not the same Jane he remembered, that Jane Watson he had inside his mind because when he was into rehab and he didn't have a picture of her. All Sherlock had were memories and inside his Mind Palace were countless rooms filled with moments of Jane, her laughter, her touches, her everything. Sherlock missed her so much and now she was there, in front of him.

But she was not the same.

Jane was thin, very thin. Her thinness was not normal. Her slightly round cheeks were now flat. Her long, fair hair was now short. Sherlock loved her long hair, he loved to touch it, let his fingertips run over it. She was wearing a loose blue shirt and a pair of worn jeans and flat shoes. She had a shoulder bag hanging on her right shoulder and from where Sherlock was, he could see a small mop of fair, soft curls.

"Mummy," said Hamish tightening the grip on his mother's hand, trying to catch her attention.

Jane was lost. She couldn't articulate a word and she was stiff, tense. Jane could not believe it, she could not believe in front of her was Sherlock Holmes, the very same Sherlock Holmes who once was her best friend, then her husband, the love of her life and the very same Sherlock Holmes who hit her and pushed down the stairs.

Her eyes were focused on him. Jane didn't look at Sherlock's new round cheeks product of the rehab process or at his expensive dark suit or the fact he was wearing that dark shirt she gave him years ago. Jane was focused on his gray eyes, which made her fear years ago, now were filled with hopes and a sincere love. Sherlock's eyes were like the eyes Jane remembered he had when they were friends, when they used to hang up on each other's houses, when they got married and when they loved each other.

Silently, Sherlock walked until he was just one or two feet from Jane and his eyes met a tiny boy with fair, soft curls and blueish eyes. His soft cheeks were pink and he looked at Sherlock in wonder.

Sherlock knelt in front of Hamish and caressed the boy's cheek and let a hand ran over the boy's hair. "Hello."

Hamish smiled. "Hello."

"What are you doing here?" asked Jane sharply, nervously.

"I wanted to see you -"

"So what? So - so you - so you sent Mike Stamford to get me here?"

Jane was so nervous, distressed to say the least. She never thought this day would come. She really thought Sherlock was away and that he was not coming back and if he was, he would never be close to her or at least he was not going to look for her. But there he was, flesh and blood. Sherlock Holmes was back and Jane was not ready - she was not ready to face him again.

Sherlock shook his head. "I didn't know -"

"Stay away from us, Sherlock."

He took a deep breath. "I'm clean," confessed Sherlock. It came out his lips and he did not regret it. It was the truth. He was clean, he had been clean for more than two years and he wanted Jane to know. It was not a lie, and it was Sherlock's confession. Sherlock needed Jane to know, because he wanted her back. That's the reason why he got clean; he needed her back, he loved her and it hurt him to know she was away from him because of what he had done to her.

Jane didn't say anything.

"I wanted to see you and our son -" whispered Sherlock. He felt Hamish's curious eyes on him and Jane's angry glare.

Sherlock took Hamish hand and the little boy smiled, but before Sherlock could do anything else, Jane took her son in her arms and walked a step backwards.

"He's  _MY_  son! Stay away from us!" bellowed she with tears in her tired eyes.

"Jane please -"

"Stay away from my son," repeated Jane. "Or I'll  _kill_  you."

Jane turned and left, slamming the door behind her back.

* * *

Sherlock didn't sleep that night. He spent the whole night thinking about Jane and Hamish. She looked so different, she looked sad, broken. She had cut her long hair, that long hair Sherlock loved so much. She was thinner, and she looked slightly ill. Her voice was sharp too, it was not the soft voice Sherlock remembered. Sherlock only remembered those sweet things she used to whisper to his ear when they were together, doing nothing, on their lazy mornings on bed or while they were making love.

He was not conscious of how much he had missed her until he saw her again.

Sherlock also thought about Hamish.

Hamish was the beautiful child he had ever seen. He had pale skin, blueish eyes, fair hair and soft curls. He looked so fragile, so sweet. Sherlock wanted to kiss him, to hug him tightly against his chest and tell him he was his father, that he missed him and that he was very sorry for being absent for the past two years. Sherlock had always felt him as if he was his real child. Even though when he was not the biological father, Sherlock loved Hamish as if he were.

Sherlock had kissed Jane's growing belly, he liked to touch her pregnant bump and wait for Hamish to kick for him. Hamish always kicked when he was close, and Jane used to tell him it was because her heart was beating faster.

_"Well, Hamish knows when you're close because my heart beats quickly than normal every time you're around."_

_"Does your heart beat faster because of me?"_

_"Of course. Because I love you."_

_"Promise me you'll love me."_

_"I promised to love you under God's eyes. I'll always love you, Sherlock."_

Sherlock asked himself if Jane still loved him.

* * *

It wasn't until after a few days later when Jane knew she had to do something. Her money was not enough, her job as a waitress was good, still not enough, nor the army pension and she needed a new place to live. The landlord warned her he was raising the prices of the apartments and it was going to be impossible for Jane to pay the rent.

Jane knew she needed another job, but all the places where she applied to told her the same. Jane was not stupid and she knew no one would hire her because of her condition as a single mother and because she had a small child. She didn't want to ask Lestrade for help because he was already paying for the nursery Hamish was going to everyday. Jane did not dare to ask him and she had no one else to go and ask for help.

"Mummy... sleepy."

Jane was revising. She left her book and looked at her son. "Go and have your nap, baby."

Hamish clung to his mother's arms. Jane carried him to his tiny bed and waited for him to fall asleep to take her books again and start revising before going to work.

Jane tried reading again but she wouldn't concentrate. Her problems were serious, she knew she needed a new job if she wanted to find a proper place for Hamish to live in. Hamish was growing up and the mall room their shared was small. Jane knew Hamish needed his own space, that he needed a healthier environment to live in and also she wanted Jane to grow up in a safer place too. The neighborhood where they were living was not the best.

A few hours later and she could not concentrate. She made some tea when Lucy, the young teenager who looked after Hamish appeared with some toast.

"Brought you these. Need me to take care of Hamish today?"

Jane nodded. "Thank you and yes please. Want tea?"

"No, it's okay. Are you studying?"

"Yes."

"Then I'd better be off. I'll finish my homework before coming for Hamish," said Lucy as she opened the door and found a tall man sharply dressed, with dark curls and insanely tall standing outside Jane's door. "Yeah?

"Does Jane Watson live here?"

* * *

Sherlock stared at the block of apartments. He knew that was the place where Jane was living, but yet he couldn't believe it. The place was dirty and it was not placed in a very nice part of London. All the opposite, Jane lived in a neighbourhood known for the high rates of criminal activities.

It took him days until he gathered some courage to face Jane again. When they saw each other again after more than two years he found another Jane. This Jane was broken, sad, ill. She was not the Jane he used to remember and he wanted to know why. Sherlock was conscious, very conscious all his actions in the past were not the best and therefore, he was not expecting Jane to be waiting for him, with her arms open and happy for him. He knew she was angry, and she had the right.

He knew there was no coming back when he faced that door. Sherlock knew behind that door was Jane.

Before he even knocked, a teenager opened the door.

"Yeah?"

"Does Jane Watson live here?"

* * *

As soon as Jane heard his voice, she ran to the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you," admitted Sherlock.

Jane bit her lip. "I told you I don't want to see you again. Leave."

"Jane, please. I need to talk to you."

For seconds Jane seemed to think about it. She knew that if she said no, Sherlock would be back. And Jane also knew it was time to face him.

She stepped back and let him in.

"Lucy, you've got Greg's number right?"

The teenager nodded. "Yeah."

"If you hear something, call him. Okay?"

"Jane, is everythin' -"

"Just go. If you hear something wrong just call him okay?"

Lucy nodded and left without even looking at Sherlock. He didn't need to be clever to know Jane was taking her precautions. What else could he expect? He had hit her, he called her names and he almost killed knew he could not expect friendliness, sympathy from Jane. All the opposite in fact. However, Sherlock knew he deserved it.

He was standing in a corner of the kitchen when Jane walked past him and gestured him to sit. As he did, he glanced at the several books on the table. They were medical books, and most of them were second, third handed books and some of them belonged to a library. There was also an exercise book filled with Jane's handwriting and some pens.

Jane put the kettle on. "I don't have coffee. Tea?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, please."

Her tone of voice was sharp, there was no friendliness on her voice and Sherlock feared her. Maybe for the first time he feared her and he didn't know if he should be there.

While Jane waited for the kettle, Sherlock let his eyes travel on Jane. Her short hair was damp, he deduced she had a shower before. She was wearing a pair of dark shorts and a loose old tee and she was barefoot. She looked so thin, so fragile.

Sherlock observed the place. He knew the apartment only had a tiny kitchen, where they were, a room and a bathroom and nothing else. The furniture was cheap, everything had been got from charity shops. It was clear and no one had to be Sherlock Holmes or be clever to see Jane had money problems.

She placed two mugs on the table, between the books and put some sugar on hers. "Sugar?"

"No, thank you."

"Milk?"

"Please," said he, softly.

Jane opened the fridge and he noted there was nothing but an open milk carton, and a plate with leftovers.

"Sorry, the milk left is for Hamish' bottles," said she as she sat in front of him

"It's fine."

"Sorry I don't have anything to offer you."

"It's fine," repeated he.

Jane sat in front of him and proceeded to take the books off the table. "Well, you said you wanted to talk."

"I... I wanted to see you because I needed to apologise. I'm sorry for all the things I've done to you. I'm sorry -"

"Sherlock, do you remember what you did?" asked she, cutting him off. "Can you remember all the things you did to me? Or were you way too high to remember?"

He closed her eyes at her questions and nodded. Of course he remembered all the things he did. Sherlock remembered all. He remembered everything and it was always like a nightmare. All the things he did felt like a nightmare but they had been real. They were too real to think they were in fact a bad dream they had.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes."

"Say it. I want you to say it."

"I'm sorry -"

"Do not apologise," mumbled Jane, close to tears. "I want you to say all the things  _you_  did to  _me_."

Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I shouted at you. I made you lost your chance to get into med school. I shoved you against the wall. I slapped you. I pressed myself against your... against your stomach -"

"Did you see I was bleeding and losing my baby?"

"Yes," admitted he with visible tears on his eyes.

At this point both cried. Both let those heavy tears fall off their eyes, but they didn't say a word about it. They cried like the day Sherlock pressed a gun to his temple and threated to kill himself if Jane was not coming back to him.

"What else did you do to me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't wipe the tears off his face and continued. "I called you a 'slut'. And I tried to touch you -"

"You tried to take me. You tried to take me without my  _consent_ , remember?" asked she, sadly, cutting Sherlock off and he nodded again. "What else?" asked Jane. Endless tears were falling down her face and Sherlock had to fight the urge to wipe them off her face with his hands.

"I pressed a hand to your wounded shoulder and I... I pushed you down the stairs."

Jane nodded. "And now, can you tell me what you did to  _my_  son?"

Sherlock didn't know what to say.

"See? You caused so much pain, Sherlock. You can't even imagine what you did to my son. I can forget what you did to me because I don't care. Do you want to know why I don't care?" asked she. "I don't care because what you did to me is nothing compared to what you did to Hamish. To Hamish, Sherlock. To Hamish, the baby you said it was yours."

"He is my son! I'm sorry for all I did, I really am, Jane. Please, you have to understand; I didn't know what I was doing! Please forgive me!"

Jane didn't want to hear Sherlock's begging anymore. She stood up abruptly, she was about to slap Sherlock when she saw Hamish peering behind the kitchen's open door.

"Mu... mummy. Mummy I wan' mil'"

Both turned their heads to look at the sleepy child in front of them. Jane took him in her arms and kissed his cheek. "It's 'want' and 'milk', Hamish. Can you pronounce those words again?" asked she, softly.

"Wan-want milk," repeated Hamish and his mother kissed him again.

She moved his high chair close to hers and sat Hamish on it. Then, she opened the fridge and took the milk to make Hamish a bottle.

"Hello Hamish," said Sherlock, still with tears on his eyes.

Hamish didn't say anything. He stared at the dark haired man with gray eyes curiously. Sherlock noted Jane was making Hamish' bottle hurriedly - she didn't want him to interact with her son.

Jane handed Hamish his bottle and patted his back. "Go to our room, Hamish."

"Mu-mummy-mmy!"

"Mummy needs to study, Hamish. Please baby."

Hamish nodded. There was disappointment in his eyes as he left the kitchen and went to the room.

"He's beautiful," said Sherlock.

Jane curled her lips, slightly, and sipped more of her tea.

"He's beautiful like his mother."

She frowned. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

"I want to apologise. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry for what I did and believe me, there hasn't been a moment in which I thought about you and about the things I did. I'm truly sorry - I know I can't do anything. I know I can't go back in time and change this, but believe me, I'm sorry."

"He's going deaf in his right ear. That makes him struggle with words," said she, ignoring Sherlock's previous words. "He suffers from migraines and he has seizures too. His heart is not as strong as it should be and the doctors says he has developmental delay. He goes to a special nursery for disabled children."

She looked into his crying eyes. Jane knew Sherlock was sorry. He was in tears asking for forgiveness and was as broken as she was. Sherlock looked sincere. Truly, honestly sorry for his past actions. And Jane contemplated the idea of forgiving Sherlock. She had not resentment within her heart. Jane, in the past two years, had thought about Sherlock and she wished him the best. Even when what he did to her had not only affected her but Hamish too, Jane wished Sherlock would be okay, clean, that he would be the clever man he was again.

Jane had to let it go.

"I'm glad you're clean. I really am, Sherlock," whispered Jane.

Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Are you forgiving me?"

"Please Sherlock, leave. I need to go to work soon."

He stood up and walked to the door. Quietly behind him was Jane. She opened the door to him and waited until he was outside. Jane wiped the tears off her face and felt Sherlock's warm hand on hers.

"Jane -"

She broke the touch sharply. "Don't touch me!"

Lucy appeared behind Sherlock with a worried look on her face. "Jane, is everything okay?"

"Yes Lucy. Can you go in and keep an eye on Hamish?"

Lucy made her way into Jane's apartment and Jane closed the door and turned to face Sherlock. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

"I love you, Jane. I love you, please let me help you. Let me help Hamish. Please, just -  _I want us to be a family again_. I want to be with you and I want us to raise Hamish together - I'm his father, please."

Sherlock took her hand and kissed it. The warm touch of Sherlock's lips on her soft hand made Jane melt inside. She'd missed him so much. Jane had to admit she missed Sherlock and she was dying to kiss him, to touch him. She still loved him.

"Please, leave," said she, stepping back. "Please leave and don't ever come back."


	43. So Sad

"You never told me- why you never told me about them!"

Mycroft looked away. His tired eyes focused on the empty mantelpiece in front of him and on the dusty skull property of his little brother. An unsuccessful attempt to avoid what was coming. Mycroft knew Sherlock had found Jane and that he visited her. Mycroft knew Sherlock had witnessed Jane's precarious conditions, her money problems, her empty fridge, her lack of the basic things on a person's life and Hamish hearing, learning and developing problems.

It was not a difficult leap.

"Where were you? Why is she living there? I paid the rent of this place and she should have stayed here -"

"And why haven't you asked her?" asked Mycroft, cutting Sherlock off. "Have you asked her why is she living in those precarious conditions? Have you asked yourself that?"

"She refused your help."

Mycroft nodded. "Firstly, I offered her this place. I was willing to buy this rooms and let her live here, as apologies for your behaviour but she said no. I offered her money and she said no. I tried to pull some strings and help her with social services, but she rejected the checks. The only thing I've managed to give her, well disguised, was an army pension from his father. That's all."

"What does she do for a living?"

"Haven't you deduced yourself?"

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "I didn't want to."

"Then I suppose you didn't ask her," said the older Holmes. "She works as a waitress in a very... charming restaurant where she's given the leftovers, so at least she doesn't starve herself," Mycroft stopped to look at his brother and continued. "She also worked on a Chemist's shop but she's been fired recently. Now the only things that keep her from being homeless are her wage, the tips from generous clients and the army pension from her father. "

Sherlock chose to ignore Mycroft's eyes on him.

"I must say, some of my... acquaintances have visited that place. She was able to tell when she was given the tips. Do you want to know what she did with the money?" asked Mycroft, but he didn't wait for Sherlock's answer. "She gave it to her co-workers. Even when Hamish was ill and he needed special medications, she rejected my money. Jane Watson has pride."

"Didn't expect less of you."

"And that is the reason why you came here and found all those things in the room upstairs. The very same day she was told Hamish could leave that incubator and hospital, she took her clothes, some books and nothing else from here. She left hospital with a bag with clothes in one arm and Hamish in the other."

Mycroft's last words didn't sound right. There was sentiment hidden in the older brother's voice, Sherlock could tell. Sherlock, by right and because of his name was owner of half England. He could get whatever he wanted and yet Jane and her son had to live in the worst part of the city, in a very tiny and unhealthy place, fighting every day to survive together.

There was a, now, familiar feeling within Sherlock's chest. His heart pounded within his chest and he was used to this: guiltiness.

"I met my son."

Mycroft sipped more tea. "Oh, do you have a son?"

"Hamish is my son."

"Hamish is a  _Watson_. He's not a Holmes. She divorced you before she could gave him your name. And even if she had not, I can assure you she would have never given Hamish our name."

"I don't care about names, he is my son."

Mycroft, sensing the angriness on his brother's voice faked a smile. A smile he shouldn't have drawn upon his face. "You are not his biological father."

And that, was the last thing Sherlock's heart needed to feel like dying.

Sherlock closed his eyes and then turned his head, trying to avoid, for the millionth time that day, his brother's eyes on him. The shame on him, the guiltiness, the fear, all those feelings were on him, on his shoulders - and they were heavy.

"Why didn't you tell me about him, about his condition?" asked Sherlock, angrily.

"Maybe you don't remember this due to the high doses of cocaine in your system. Hamish was born a few minutes after you ran after James Moriarty," said Mycroft and made a pause. Sherlock looked into his brother's eyes. "He was born more than two months before time. He was a premature child and he had a heart attack minutes after his birth. So did Jane."

"You never told me -"

"I did. I told you when you signed off the divorce papers."

Sherlock's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"He spent three full months inside an incubator and he met his mother the very same day he was allowed to leave hospital. Neither of us can imagine what must have been for your  _ex-wife_  to meet her child three months after he was born. Can you imagine that, Sherlock? Can you imagine what must be to only meet your son through a glass wall?"

There was no sarcasm on Mycroft's voice. And it hurt the politician to say all those things to his brother. But Sherlock had to see what his actions have caused. And he also needed to see, to know, that some things were never going to be the same. And Jane Watson and Sherlock Holmes was not the exception. When Sherlock got himself clean and returned to England, Mycroft knew he was expecting forgiveness and open arms. Sherlock was waiting for a small child to call him 'father' and Jane Watson to be happy for his recovery. But neither of those things happened. And they were not going to happen.

Sherlock needed to understand.

"Jane said he has hearing problems."

"He's going deaf in his right ear. Have you seen his hearing aid? He has learning, development and speech problems as well. He goes to a special nursery and Jane has been correctly advised to look for pedagogical aid."

Sherlock didn't say anything, Mycroft took his umbrella and got himself ready to leave.

"I do hope this makes you understand what your addiction have caused. And I also hope it makes you think twice before injecting yourself again."

* * *

"That was your ex, wasn't he?"

Jane nodded.

"Listen Jane, I didn't want to listen, but you know the walls are thin," said Lucy with a serious expression on her face. "Whatever he did to you, he sounded really sorry."

"Lucy -"

"You should forgive him, Jane. You can't carry on with your life hating people."

"I don't hate him," said Jane. "But many things happened between us, you wouldn't understand."

"Look, if telly has taught me anything is that men that hurt women and then say they changed... that's bullshit. They don't change. But that man, Jane, that man sounded quite sorry. And think about Hamish. He'll need his father, I mean - he'll grow up and he'll ask for his father."

"He's not Hamish's father," said Jane, shaking her head. She ignored Lucy's confused look and continued reading.

* * *

For days, Sherlock couldn't think of anything else but Jane and Hamish. He couldn't eat thinking Jane was in her tiny flat, maybe starving herself to give Hamish a plate with food or his bottles. He couldn't sleep thinking where Jane was sleeping, where Hamish was sleeping and if they were okay. Sherlock could not concentrate in anything, not even domestic cases when he though about Jane and Hamish not having a place to live.

Sherlock made his own research and found out about Suzanne and Harriet Watson turned their backs to Jane when she told her mother about Hamish' real father. For once Sherlock asked and for once Mycroft answered all his questions. Sherlock learnt Suzanne couldn't bear the fact her daughter was pregnant with the son of a man who was not her husband - Sherlock. Since the day Suzanne was told the truth, she hadn't been in touch with Jane and she didn't know Hamish, in fact, she never bothered to ask for her grandchild. Not even when she was told about Jane's kidnapping and the condition in which Hamish was born. The same happened to Harriet Watson, who took sides and chose not to talk to her sister anymore. And Sherlock new her ex mother-in-law well enough to know she was embarrassed. He experienced it when they told her Jane was pregnant. As soon as she knew it, she hurried the wedding and insisted on keeping it secret for the sakes of appearances. So, the fact Suzanne and Harriet turned their backs to Jane was not a surprise to him.

On his search for more things, Sherlock also found out about Greg Lestrade's new life with another woman who was not Jane's mother and his unconditional help to Jane and Hamish. The Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard paid for Hamish nursery and he also helped Jane whenever he could; he was in constant touch with Jane, calling her at least once each day, and they had lunch once per week. Jane was indeed quite famous at the Scotland Yard and all the policemen took for granted she was in fact Greg's daughter. Greg was the only one who helped Jane - or at least he was the only one Jane allowed herself and her baby to be helped by.

It wasn't until a few days later when Sherlock visited Barts' university. He was walking along the green field of the university campus when he spotted Jane hurriedly walking to the gates, carrying what it looked like a heavy bag on her right shoulder. As Sherlock approached her, his eyes met the old walking stick by her side and her tired face.

"Jane," he placed a hand on her right shoulder, making her turn to face him. She was using her walking stick and she looked as if she was in pain. She looked very surprised to see him there.

"What do you want? Are you spying on me?" asked Jane sharply.

"I need to talk to you."

"I think we've already talked, Sherlock. We've talked  _enough_."

"Jane -"

She stopped at the bus stop. "What do you want, Sherlock?!"

"I want you and Hamish to move to Baker Street with me."

"What?"

"I know you need a place to live."

"That's not your damn business, Sherlock! Stay the hell out of me and Hamish for God's sake!"

"I... I want you to come to Baker Street. I've arranged everything for you and Hamish to live there," said Sherlock. "I've - everything is childproof and clean and- everything is clean and I've got things for Hamish -"

She looked at the bus coming. "I can't. I'm picking Hamish."

Jane did not express her wish to move with him, if she had any. She only said she had to pick her son from nursery. And that let Sherlock lit a little candle called hope within his chest.

"Let's go and then we can go to Baker Street. Please Jane."

Jane bit her lip. She had told herself, in a futile attempt to forget that Sherlock was back in her life, that the time he had been at her place was a bad dream. She told herself it was an hallucination, a product of her mind, maybe a bad dream. She tried to convince herself Sherlock was somewhere else, maybe with another woman, maybe injecting himself - or maybe he was dead. But Jane didn't want to see him again. Yet, there he was, offering her a place to live and, in a unspoken way, begging her for another chance

She nodded and both walked, slowly, side by side, to Hamish' nursery. Sherlock didn't try to make conversation, Jane looked angry.

Once they were there, Sherlock had to fight some tears back when he saw Hamish running to Jane's arms. As soon as the boy saw his mother waiting for him, he took his little bag and ran to meet his mother. Jane knelt to hug her son, even though her leg was killing her, Jane knelt and hug her son tightly. Watching Hamish's tiny fingers curling on Jane's jacket, his closed eyes as he inhaled his mother's scent and her flushing cheeks against Jane's chest, that made Sherlock regret everything; the cocaine, the yells, the violence, his hand on Jane's cheek and mostly his absence when both Jane and Hamish needed him the most.

"Hello Hamish!"

"I miz... I missed you- you mu-mmy," mumbled Hamish.

Jane smiled. "Well done, my baby. Well done!"

"I... missed you... mu-mummy."

"That's good!"

Hamish stopped to look at Sherlock. The little boy pointed at Sherlock's curls and then he pointed at his own soft curls. "Curls!"

Sherlock looked at Jane for her approval, and she nodded, almost reluctantly. Sherlock knelt to meet Hamish and kissed his cheek. "Hello, Hamish. I'm Sherlock."

The little boy frowned and then he pointed at Sherlock's dark curls as he touched his own soft curls. "Curls!"

Sherlock raised the small kid and Hamish clung to him, placing both of his little arms around Sherlock's neck. He kissed the detective's cheek and glued his forehead to his. "Curls!" said he again, letting a hand ran over Sherlock's wild curls.

Jane looked away and wiped a tear off her face. She tried to take Hamish off Sherlock, but the boy tightened his grip on Sherlock's shirt and shook his head.

"Can I... can I carry him, please?"

She didn't say anything and the two of them walked outside where Sherlock hailed a cab. The journey was silent between Jane and Sherlock, she, in fact, sat far away from him. She kept her distance but she also kept an eye on Hamish, who was sitting over Sherlock's lap, glued to him.

Sherlock took his time to observe Hamish. He was nothing like the child he imagined. He was more beautiful.

He was real.

Hamish's soft, fair curls made him think he looked a bit like him and Sherlock was proud. Even if Hamish had been born without them and looking like the man who was his real father - his biological father - Sherlock would have been proud of him.

Sherlock also observed Hamish' fragile health. He was struggling with words, and he kept pressing his fingers to his hearing aid, always making himself sure he had it. It was obvious Jane had taught him to keep it there, on his right ear and to make himself sure he always had it. Also, Hamish was shorter than children around his age and the developmental delay was obvious. Hamish' vocabulary was limited, quite limited and Jane spent most of the time correcting his speech. And Hamish looked at his mother's lips and tried to imitate the movement and the sound of the words.

"Want home... mummy."

Jane took Hamish off Sherlock and helped him out of the cab. "I know baby, but we're visiting nanny Hudson!"

"Nan... nan Hudsoooon."

"Nan Hudson," corrected Jane.

It was like the first time. They stopped at the black door and Sherlock opened the door for them. Inside Mrs Hudson greeted both and went upstairs with them.

"Sherlock's changed everything," said Mrs Hudson cheerfully. "I'd love to have you here again, Jane. And little Hamish too!"

"I don't know Mrs Hudson, it's not easy."

"Want milk!"

"Why don't you look at the place while I make this lovely baby his bottle?"

Jane felt uneasy, restless. "Okay."

Mrs Hudson took Hamish with her downstairs, leaving Sherlock and Jane alone. He started showing Jane the sitting room. The fireplace was blocked with fire guards so Hamish was not getting his own hands burned. The windows had protection too and there was a small armchair for a child like Hamish and a small table too with countless white sheets and crayons.

"And I've removed the experiments off the table," explained Sherlock as they moved to the kitchen.

Jane followed him closely, but still keeping the space between them. She was quiet while Sherlock explained her all the childproofing process. The electrical outlets were all covered, some kitchen cabinets had a latches so Hamish was not going to be in touch with things such as drain cleaners, or another things he didn't need to touch. On the corner, between the sitting room and the kitchen was a playpen. It was made of wood and it had special toys for children with special necessities like Hamish.

"I have changed the room upstairs too."

When Sherlock opened the door of the room upstairs, Jane caught her breath. The walls were light blue painted and there were two single beds, a bookshelf, and a lot of special toys in the opposite corner. There was also a wardrobe, a desk and a chair. Jane was surprised, Sherlock had not only worked preparing that room for Hamish but for her as well. Even the window had lovely curtains.

"You can change the order of the furniture if you want, and the beds are -"

"It's lovely, Sherlock."

He smiled at her. "You and Hamish deserve the best. Everything is ready for you and him."

"Who told you I'm moving back with you?"

"I thought - You need a place to live."

She nodded. "I know, I'm not stupid."

"I'm not saying you're stupid -"

"I'm not moving back."

Sherlock tried to reach out her arm. "You don't need to pay any rent."

"You don't understand, do you?" asked Jane softly. "Do you really think I'll move with you after what happened between us?"

Jane looked at the room and remembered all the things that had happened there. She remembered Sherlock kneeling after her, hugging her, kissing her pregnant bump and caressing her skin, trying to feel Hamish kicking inside her. Baker Street changed a lot, but still, those memories of them together were still there and Jane was not sure if she would be able to stand it.

Not even when she and her baby were homeless and they needed a place to stay.

"I'm clean. I swear to you I'm clean and I won't hurt you, Jane. Please. Please, let us be a family again -"

"We'd never been a family, Sherlock," said she cutting Sherlock off. "You ran away before we could, just like Hamish's biological father... you ran away," said she, with bitterness in her voice.

"I'm not him."

Neither of them pronounced Hamish's biological father's name - Sam Sawyer.

"No, you're not. But both are made of the same material. Both liked to hurt and both found pleasure in it," she took a deep breath and looked into Sherlock's watery eyes. "There's been a lot of things between us, Sherlock. I can't even walk the stairs without remembering you... I can't even look at that sofa thinking we were there - you over me, forcing me to have sex with you when I was bleeding, losing my son and  _begging_  you to stop."

"Please Jane, I  _need_  you and our son -"

"He's not your son, Sherlock! He's Hamish  _Watson_  and thank God he doesn't have your  _damn_  name," said she, with pain in her voice.

"Can you stop this? Jane please, I'm begging you! I've changed - I'm clean! I've got myself clean because of you and Hamish. I want us to be a family, please give me a chance to prove to you I've changed!"

She took her bag, her walking stick and got herself ready to leave. "I forgave you not once, but  _three_  times. And you've only proved to me you can hit and hurt me even more."

"I can't forgive myself, Jane. You can't imagine how much it hurts me."

"Oh, then can you imagine how much it hurt me? How much your hard hands hurt on my body? Can you?" Jane turned before leaving. "You can't even imagine the scars I have on my body. And all of them are  _leftovers_  from your love for me."

Jane slammed the door behind her back.

Sherlock stared at the closed door and then at the empty playpen he bought for Hamish, the very same one he imagined Hamish playing in and wished he had some cocaine to inject himself.


	44. Help Is Round the Corner

The words had been hurtful. Those words had broken his heart. Those words had stabbed his chest and as a sharp knife, tore his heart and soul apart. Even though Jane's words did all of that, Sherlock knew she was right. Jane had been one hundred percent sure. She had no reason to believe he could change. Sherlock knew his actions had been awful enough, awful enough for Jane not to forgive him.

And Sherlock didn't blame Jane.

Even when the wish of taking, abusing of cocaine was still within his chest, Sherlock swallowed the tears and didn't look back. He took his old microscope off a box and some other things and sat on the kitchen table for hours.

Maybe he needed to accept Jane was no coming back.

* * *

Jane was amazed by Sherlock. Years ago when they first met, she said he would never stop to amaze her. That his brain, his cleverness and his friendship were all. And now, after so many things had happened between them, Sherlock was still amazing her. The work he did on Baker Street was amazing, perfect. He really made an effort, thought Jane. The kitchen cabinets had latches, the fireplace was covered, the windows too. The electrical outlets were covered too, everything had been thought to protect and keep a child like Hamish out of danger.

She didn't sleep that night. Jane watched Hamish sleeping form in front of her an remembered that play pen Sherlock bought for Hamish. It was lovely, it looked perfect and she could perfectly picture Hamish there, playing with the special toys that had been bought for him, specially for him and for his special needs. Before leaving, Mrs Hudson tried to persuade her by telling her Sherlock had assembled the play pen himself, that he did the toys shopping, that he painted the walls of the room upstairs, but Jane didn't look back. She took her son and got into a bus. She didn't look back and when Hamish asked why she was crying Jane said it was because she had something in her eyes.

Jane dreamt of Sherlock and Hamish and herself all living in Baker Street, together. She dreamt, imagined and pictured herself and her baby living with Sherlock. What would it be like? she thought. She had lived there, she knew what it was like. The sounds of the streets, so annoying but reassuring somehow. The smell of baked bread coming from the shop downstairs, Mrs Hudson's cakes and cookies, the strange sound the flushing toilet did, the cracking sound of the wooden floor of Sherlock's room. She missed it all.

What would it be for Hamish to live with Sherlock? Would Hamish like Sherlock? Hamish already liked Sherlock, there was no point denying it. Jane had seen how Hamish hugged, kissed and smiled at Sherlock. Her baby was very curious and he liked to touch Sherlock's curls, the soft material of his expensive clothes and she even saw Hamish hiding his face in Sherlock's neck. And Jane was not jealous. She was far from jealous. She inwardly loved it and wished she could tell Hamish Sherlock was his daddy. She wished things had been different. Jane wished Sherlock had never met cocaine. Jane wished Sherlock had never hurt her, maybe if that had been case she would have forgiven him. If that had been the case, Jane would have never asked for a divorce, she would have stayed at Baker Street and she would have told Hamish Sherlock was his daddy and that he had to be away because he was ill but now he was fine.

And she would have been waiting for him with her arms open. And maybe she would have given him a kiss too.

But it hadn't been the case.

However, Jane's main fear was what would it be of them living with Sherlock now he was clean. Would Sherlock hurt them? Jane knew and she was sure Sherlock was clean, she believed him. Jane knew she was not a doctor yet, but she had certain knowledge and seeing Sherlock now she knew he was clean and that he was not lying. Sherlock was indeed the living proof of someone who got clean after abusing drugs. He looked so different now - he looked older. He didn't look like someone his age. He looked older and healthier. Jane saw he had put on some weight, which was good since he had always been someone who rejected food. His sharp cheekbones were now rounder and there was a healthy pink shade on his face.

The trouble was what if Sherlock needed it  _again_? What if the craving sensation made him do stupid things again? This time Jane was not alone, she had a son now. She had to think of him, Jane had to think of Hamish and of his safety and of his well being. She could not afford watching her son get hurt because of Sherlock and she was not going to let that happen.

And that made Jane decide, even if she had no place to live in, she was not going back to Sherlock.

The days passed by, Jane continued working very hard at the restaurant and she got good tips, but still, it was not enough. She tried saving money by just buying what she really needed and that was nothing. The only things she always bought was milk and special food for Hamish and nothing else, thanks to the leftovers she was given in the restaurant.

In her struggle to get money, Jane sold the clarinet her father gave her years ago. She did not hesitate, and she knew her father would be proud of her because she needed the money - she preferred to get rid of the last thing, the last memory she had from her father if that meant Hamish and she would have a place to live.

And still, it was not enough money.

Jane met Greg Lestrade for lunch two days before she had to leave her apartment. She didn't know if it was destiny or not, but before Jane could gather some courage and ask Greg for help, he told her his new girlfriend, Katherine, was moving in with him. The policeman had a big place, but Jane didn't ask. Katherine didn't like Jane and vice versa.

Suzanne and Harriet were not an option. Jane knew even if she called and told them she really needed a place to stay, they would just end the call. And Jane knew she couldn't just call them and ask for help when they hadn't talk to each other in three years.

The day before Jane had to leave the apartment, Jane received an special visit.

"Mrs Hudson, what are you doing here?"

Jane was quite surprised, since she have been living there Mrs Hudson never visited her due to the fact she lived in a not so very nice part of the city and Mrs Hudson couldn't afford a bus journey and walking a few streets because of her hip.

The old lady kissed Jane's cheek and handed her a plate with sponge cake she baked by herself. "Can I come in, dear?"

"Sure! Please, come in - sorry!"

Jane made tea while Mrs Hudson sat next to Hamish.

"He's so lovely, Jane!"

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The old landlady nodded. "I wanted to talk about Sherlock."

"Did he send you here?"

"I'm here by my own will," said the old lady as she sipped more of her tea. "Sherlock didn't send me."

"Mrs Hudson... "

"You ought to give Sherlock a second chance, Jane. He's changed."

Jane took a deep breath. "I oughtn't to give him anything, Mrs Hudson. I can't give him a second chance."

"But he's clean!"

"I know he's clean. But that's not a guarantee, is it? He hurt me once, two and then three times. He could hurt me a fourth time. And it's not only me. I have a son now."

"Jane, I know what's like. You know perfectly well what happened to me," said Mrs Hudson and Jane nodded, remembering the landlady's story with her abusive husband. "Sherlock is not that kind of man. Not anymore. He made mistakes, but he has changed."

"But... suppose I move back with him. Then what? What if he starts injecting himself? He will hurt my baby!"

"He's clean. He will never hurt Hamish. He wants Hamish more than anything in this world, believe me. He bought all those toys you saw, he painted that room himself and everything is childproof. Please Jane, give him a chance."

Jane nodded. "I don't know what to do, Mrs Hudson. I don't really know."

"Think about it dear. You don't need to worry about the rent."

"I will Mrs Hudson, thanks for coming. I know your hip must be hurting you."

"It's okay dear. But think about it, promise me you will."

"I will Mrs Hudson."

As soon as the landlady left her apartment, Jane remembered the following day was her last day to stay there. If she couldn't come up with the money, she was going to be kicked out of the place.

Jane really needed a place to live.

* * *

The following morning, Jane filled a bag with her and Hamish' clothes and a small box with a few toys. She said good bye to Lucy and lied to her, saying she had found a new place to live. Jane also promised her they were going to be in touch, and that was not a lie.

Just like the day Jane left hospital, she was walking with him, holding his hand and carrying their clothes and a small box.

It was Hamish and Jane alone again, against the world.

Jane left Hamish in the nursery and walked to uni. That morning she attended to all her classes but she couldn't concentrate. She was picking Hamish in the afternoon and then what was she going to do? She didn't have a place to go.

"Hey Jane! Need help with that?"

She smiled at his friend. "Hi Bill. No, I'm fine -"

"No, you're not," said Bill Murray, cutting Jane off and taking her bag and the box off her arms. "Are you moving?"

"Yeah," lied Jane.

"Where?"

"Um... have you got a new flatmate?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah, he moved in last week, remember I told you?"

"Oh yes, I remember."

Now Jane didn't have a place to go to.

* * *

Jane was sitting outside a cheap coffee shop with Hamish. He was having a glass of milk and cookies. Her eyes were lost, she was thinking, trying to come up with a place - somewhere she could go and spend the night. There were plenty cheap hotels and rooms to stay, at least for a night, but Jane knew it was going to be a waste of money. And she didn't have much.

Lost in thought, she didn't realise there was a black car parked next to her.

"Jane, hello. Please, get in," said Mycroft, softly as he opened the door of his car for her.

"What for?"

"To have a friendly chat."

She frowned. "You don't do friendly chats, Mycroft."

"Please Jane, get in the car."

"No, I won't go to Baker Street," replied she, stubbornly.

"It's getting cold and this is not a place for a young woman and her son."

Reluctantly, Jane took her belongings and carrying Hamish in her arms, both got into the car.

"Umbrella!"

Mycroft curled his lips at Hamish. "My, lovely kid is he. Sherlock was right."

"Right about what?"

"Where are you planning to stay tonight?"

"That's not your business."

"I beg to differ."

"What do you want, Mycroft?"

The car made its way through the busy London streets. Jane could see the lights of the city, the tourist, the local people walking... she didn't realise where they were going until the car stopped at 221 Baker Street.

"I need you to live with my brother."

"No."

"Correct me if I'm wrong. You have no place to go right now, you only have three hundred and twenty two pounds in your pockets, it's almost dinner time and you're starving. So is your son -"

"Why you want me to move in with him again? Do you understand what you're asking me?"

"I'm merely offering you a safe place to live where you won't pay any rent and -"

"A  _safe_  place to live?" asked Jane, angrily. "You're trying to say that we'll be safe living here with a  _junkie_?"

"Sherlock is clean."

"I know he's clean."

"Then I do not understand why you refuse. It's a very nice place in the city, much better than that old block of apartments."

"He almost killed me!"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "This past week he's barely left his room.  _We_  both know what he's capable of. He managed to get himself clean  _alone_. I need you to help him now,  _please_."

If Jane knew Mycroft, she also knew he didn't say 'please' so frequently.

"Politicians are liars, Mycroft," said she, looking at Hamish sleeping form on her lap. "I need you to promise me nothing will happen to us - to Hamish and me."

The older brother nodded. "I promise you nothing will happen to you. Sherlock won't lay a finger on you, not again."

Jane got off the car carrying her son in her arms and looked at the black door in front of her. She bit her lip and wondered if what she was doing was right. That time when she took her things, she promised herself she was not going back there.

Hamish woke up and rubbed his tired eyes with his hands. "Mummy?"

"We're moving, baby."

And there was he, opening the door for them.

Hamish smiled and extended his arms as soon as his eyes met Sherlock's figure.


	45. Sleeping Sun

"Sher- Sher... Sher-wock!"

Jane looked between Hamish and Sherlock. Her baby struggled with the name, but he remembered it. Hamish remembered Sherlock's name. And he looked excited at the sight of that tall man with dark curls in front of him. There was a special glow on Hamish' eyes. The small kid looked utterly excited, the improvised nap he had in Mycroft's car was already forgotten and now he was wide awake, with both of his short arms trying to get hold of Sherlock, trying to cling to his neck and kiss his cheek.

And Sherlock looked... delighted. He only curled his lips upwards, slightly, and kept the happiness he was feeling within his chest very well hidden. He did not want to be misunderstood, there was the fear Jane might think he was happy she didn't have a place to go so she had to stay with him. He was not happy after her disgrace, he was happy they were there, and that finally they were there where he thought they belonged to, with him, in Baker Street. So when Jane and Hamish were in front of him, Sherlock had to fight the urge and take Hamish in his arms and kiss Jane.

This time Sherlock was going to take good care of them, he was going to be a father to Hamish and he was going to help him. Sherlock was going to help both. And maybe they could be a family again.

And this time Sherlock was not going to make a mistake.

"Hello," said Sherlock, softly, as he opened the door and took Jane's small box from the floor and her bag.

Embarrassed, ashamed, Jane felt nervous, clumsy, shy. She felt just like the day they met, when she fell to the floor and Sherlock took her hand and helped her to get to her feet again. She felt sad, and again, Sherlock was there waiting to take her hand and help her.

"I need to talk to Mrs Hudson."

"She's visiting her sister," replied he.

Jane bit her lip. Carefully and slowly, she walked the seventeen stairs again with the help of her walking stick and holding Hamish' hand. Sherlock walked behind them and noted Hamish walked in unison with his mother, waiting in every step for Jane. It amazed Sherlock to see how conscious Hamish was about Jane's condition and how well behaved he was. It was Jane's son, and of course he behaved well. But he was so calm so quiet and he barely talked unless he was asked or talked to. He didn't make fuss like other children his age and he looked at Jane every time every few seconds, like making himself sure his mother was okay.

Once they were in front of the door of 221 B, Jane waited for Sherlock to walk in first. Awkwardly, Sherlock opened the door of the sitting room and placed the box and the bag over the table. He noted Hamish' eyes lit up as soon as he glanced at the play pen and at the little table with sheets and crayons.

"Mu-mummy," said Hamish pointing at the play pen.

But before Jane could say something, Sherlock spoke first. "We can put him in there so you can unpack."

Jane nodded. She shifted Hamish and placed him into the play pen. Little Hamish sat down and started playing with the toys inside, calmly.

"I will help you with your things," said Sherlock when Jane took her walking stick ready to head upstairs.

They went upstairs in silence. Jane ignored Sherlock's curious eyes on her and Sherlock tied very hard not to deduce anything from her but it was impossible not to do so. Her shirt had a small stain - tea. She had tea - tea from a thermo mug and nothing else for lunch. She didn't need her walking stick to walk but she had to use it to walk stairs-

"We need to set rules," said Jane, bringing Sherlock back to reality.

Sherlock rested his back against one of the walls of the room and nodded. Of course Jane had conditions.

"I'm not cooking, washing, cleaning or doing anything for you."

Anyone could have noted the nervousness, the shaking tone of Jane's voice. She was slightly blushing, there was a pink shade on her cheeks and her left hand was shaking again. Her leg was hurting her, and there was a strange feeling within her chest. Jane felt like what she had said was a lot not good.

"I was not expecting you to be my maid."

"Good. That's good..."

"I'll leave you alone. I can look after Hamish so you can unpack -"

"No. I'll go to the shop and get something for dinner. He must be hungry by now."

Somehow, the tone of their voices started to sound casual and it was not sharp anymore, at least Jane's voice was not intense, severe. And Sherlock's was not shy.

"I've made the shopping."

In the kitchen Jane opened the fridge and found it clean and pristine. There were no body parts, no experiments and it was, as Sherlock said, full of food and veggies. Sherlock said she could take and do what she wanted because Baker Street was her home now. Jane just ignored him and cooked some rice with veggies.

Sherlock sat on his armchair and observed Hamish cheerfully playing with his new toys inside the play pen. He saw Jane walking to the sitting room to take a look at Hamish every few minutes, making herself sure he was fine. Sherlock's eyes were on them, on Hamish tiny form, playing with his new toys, calmly and quietly playing and on Jane's fragile body. She looked so different that he used to remember. She looked so thin now, and her short hair made her look utterly different, as if she was not that Jane Watson he befriended and later got married to.

"Are you eating now?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

Jane placed three plates on the table among the glasses and water. "If you're eating dinner." She walked to the sitting room and took Hamish in her arms. "I've cooked rice and vegetables, if you want."

They sat in complete silence. Jane sat Hamish on her lap and Sherlock went to his room and brought with him a high chair.

"I bought it for him. I hope it suits him fine."

"Thanks. I'll pay for it soon."

"You don't need to pay me anything."

"I'll pay for it soon, thank you," insisted Jane.

The dinner went fine. They ate in silence, and Hamish ate with Jane's help.

Despite what she said earlier, Jane cooked for him.

"Mummy... Sher-Sherwock not eat!" said Hamish, pointing at Sherlock's plate.

Jane smiled at her son. "It's 'Sherlock didn't eat', Hamish."

"Sher... Sher-lock didn't e-at. Eat."

Sherlock smiled too.

It wasn't until a few minutes later when Sherlock saw Jane sitting on her old armchair, with Hamish on her lap. Quietly, without saying a word, Sherlock sat on his armchair, in front of her with a book in his hands. Jane ignored him completely and read Hamish a lullaby.

_Bye, baby Bunting,_

_Daddy's gone a-hunting,_

_Gone to get a rabbit skin_

_To wrap the baby Bunting in._

Jane repeated the lullaby as many times as Hamish asked her to. _  
_

"Mummy... what is- what is a - da-da-daddy?"

Sherlock froze and looked at Jane. She didn't look at him, she kept her gaze on her son who was close to fall asleep on her lap and kissed his forehead.

"A daddy is like a mummy. For example, Greg is like a daddy to me. You understand, baby?" replied Jane. It was only a mere whisper.

"And-and- my da-daddy?"

Jane ignored his question. "It's time to sleep, Hamish. Let's go to bed."

She made her ways upstairs with Hamish in her arms and Sherlock didn't see them again for the rest of the night.

* * *

The following morning, Sherlock woke up and found himself alone. Hamish and Jane were nowhere to be seen, the entire flat was silent and there was Jane's mug next to the sink and Hamish's bottle too. It was clear they had breakfast and then they left. Sherlock knew Hamish went to a special nursery till afternoon and Jane went to classes.

The day passed by calmly. Sherlock continued updating his website, 'The Science of Deduction', and classified a few cases he was going to work on the following days.

There wasn't much to do, so Sherlock continued on reading the latest book he acquired, one for parents with children who suffer hearing problems. He's been quite curious about Hamish' problems and the detective wanted to know all he could if only it meant he was going to be able to help Hamish.

* * *

"What?"

Jane nodded. "Greg -"

"Why didn't you tell me? For God's sake, Jane - he's an addict!" hissed he, angrily.

Both were at the police station. After picking Hamish from the nursery, Jane went to the NSY to talk to Greg about her situation. She only wanted him to know where she was living now, and that they were fine, at least they had a good night and Sherlock was clean, but Greg wouldn't believe her.

"He's clean."

Greg took his mobile and called the drug's division. "Are you together again?"

"What? No!" Jane looked down. "I... I needed a place to go and Mycroft -"

"And what the hell does Mycroft Holmes have to do with anything? Did they force you?"

"No, for the last time, Greg, they didn't force me! I needed a place to go!"

"Yo could have called me then!"

"I didn't want to bother you," said she, shyly.

"You called, Detective Inspector?" asked a policeman opening the door of Greg's office.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, we've got a drug bust. 221 B Baker Street,  _now_."

* * *

When Jane opened the door, she found Sherlock placing a tea tray over the small table between the two armchairs. There were two cups, cookies and a bottle - Hamish's bottle.

Sherlock smiled at Hamish. Jane let go of him and Sherlock handed the little boy his bottle and kissed his cheek. Hamish kissed him too and sat on his little chair. Then, Sherlock looked at Jane and for the first time, he found pity in her eyes. Jane placed a hand on his arm and the touch was so warm, it was something Sherlock hadn't felt for a long time when he saw  _him_  standing on the doorway, and several policemen getting inside his flat.

"Sherlock -" Jane tried to warn him.

"Sherlock Holmes, this is a drug bust."

It was Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.


	46. What If

"Sherlock -" Jane tried to warn him.

"Sherlock Holmes, this is a drug bust."

It was Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

There were more than fifteen policemen and two dogs inside his flat. A group of five immediately moved to the kitchen, while the rest were on his room, the bathroom and the sitting room. The noise was annoying, Sherlock clenched his teeth as he watched how the policemen removed his books from the bookshelves, the cups, the mugs, the plates, everything from their original place. It was annoying because all that order, everything was in order and it was clean because of them; Jane and Hamish. He worked very hard to keep Baker Street in order so Jane would stay, and now they were there, making a mess, looking for things he didn't have. Because Sherlock Holmes was clean. He was.

The three of them, Sherlock, Jane and Greg remained silent. The only audible sounds were the saucepans hitting the floor, the spoons being removed from their place and a broken cup on the sink.

Soon the dogs were on Hamish, distracted by the milk and the cookies he had and a policewoman was trying to keep them off him.

"What's this?" asked Sherlock, angrily.

"It's a drug bust."

"Sherlock, I'm sorry I told him you were clean -"

The young detective ignored Jane's words. "I'm clean!"

"That's what Jane said, but I wanted to see myself."

Sherlock looked away, and then at Hamish who was happily drinking his milk and staring at the policemen in wonder. Sherlock immediately knew this was not right, this was not what Hamish was supposed to see, live, experience. Then, he looked how his kitchen, his bookshelves, everything was being touched and looked at, in an attempt to find what he didn't have: cocaine, weed, every kind of drug that could possibly exist in the world.

Sherlock sat on his chair. "Do as you please. You will find nothing."

"It won't be like before if we find something, Sherlock. Your brother won't be able to get you out of my reach again," said Greg.

"Still angry because you couldn't break my nose?"

Jane's eyes widened when she looked at Greg's jumping over Sherlock and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. The Detective Inspector had Sherlock pressed against the wall and his fist was ready to punch Sherlock on the face.

"I'm still angry for what you did to Jane and Hamish you fucking piece of -"

"I wouldn't have done  _ANYTHING_  if you hadn't sent me there to buy drugs in the first place!" hissed Sherlock, angrily.

"STOP!" yelled Jane grabbing Greg by his shoulder and pulling him off Sherlock. "What are you talking about?" asked Jane, turning to Sherlock.

Everything was silent. All the policemen stopped looking for drugs and remained silent. Even Hamish stared at them and dropped his bottle to the floor.

"Get your men out my flat,  _now_."

"What's he talking about, Greg?"

Greg looked back at Sherlock, and then at Jane. "I don't know what are you doing here with him. He almost killed you -"

"What's he talking about?"

"When he offered me some cold cases to get into his division, he sent me undercover to buy cocaine so they could get the dealer," explained Sherlock.

Greg bit his lip and closed his eyes remembering. "Everyone out, now!"

Once all the policemen left the flat and Greg, Sherlock and Jane were alone, Jane let the tears she was holding go out in plain sight. She took Hamish in her arms and sat on her old armchair. She was crying and pressing both of her hands to her mouth, trying to stop her sobs.

"Mummy... mu-mummy!"

"Jane -"

"How could you? How could you? For God's sake, how could you?"

Greg placed a hand to her shoulder, but Jane refused his touch. "When I told you I didn't know how he... how he could have possibly got the drugs you said nothing! And you knew!"

"Jane, listen, I didn't know, okay?"

"You didn't know? How could you, Greg? You promised me he was going to be fine and the following morning I found him lying unconscious here, high as a kite for God's sake!"

Sherlock remained silent.

"I don't want to see you! You lied to me - You were like a father to me and you lied!"

Greg turned. Sherlock was opening the door for him. Holding his breath, he walked past Sherlock, but he did not leave without a warning.

"Just a bruise, Sherlock. If I see a bruise on her or on Hamish I'll make myself sure no one ever finds your bones."

There was a long silence after Greg left. Sherlock stared at the mess the policemen did in the kitchen, in the sitting room, everything had been removed from its original place, the books were on the floor. Everything was a mess.

They were a mess.

"Why you didn't tell me?"

Sherlock looked at little Hamish, sitting on Jane's lap, trying to wipe the tears off his mother's face with his tiny hands. "I don't know."

"Why you had to do that, Sherlock? Was it my fault? Did I do anything -"

"You did nothing, Jane. It was me. I did it because I was afraid you'd leave me. I thought you would just wake up one day realising you never loved me," explained he.

"You knew I  _loved_  you, Sherlock. I would have never left you."

He nodded. "I thought you were confused, that it was just the hormones of you pregnancy confusing you. I did it because I thought you'd leave me. And I wanted you and Hamish more than anything in the world. I was stupid. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. What I did to you and Hamish... those are things I will always regret." Sherlock took a deep breath and looked into her crying eyes and continued. "Jane, I'm sorry. I know my words will never make up for what you and Hamish had to go through."

"No, they won't. You can't imagine how hard it's to see your son through a wall glass. I was allowed to hold Hamish three months after he was born. And I couldn't even breastfeed my baby."

"I'm sorry."

Jane wiped the tears off her face and looked how Hamish started playing with the crayons, drawing using the different colours, totally unaware of the conversation being held so close to him. "I don't want to hurt you by saying all these things, but you need to know what happened. I also need to know what happened to you."

"I did it every time you were sleeping. I tried very hard to keep my hands off it, but I couldn't. Cocaine turns people into slaves. And I was not the exception. That picture you were given, about me -"

"About you kissing a woman?" asked Jane, softly.

"Yes. My dealer was away, and she had cocaine. I kissed her so she would give me more drug. I hurt you, but I never cheated on you. I would never have. I would never do it."

Jane didn't say anything about that.

They feel into a long silence again, sometimes interrupted by Hamish' laughter, pointing at the animals he was drawing and the noises they made in real life. Jane sometimes shared a smile with her son, but Sherlock, from his place sitting in front of Jane, tried to ignore the tears behind Jane's eyes and behind his own.

"You should talk to Lestrade. He cares about you and Hamish."

Jane bit her lip. "I don't know."

"He always cared about you. I've seen it when I met him, remember after the prom party?"

"Yes," said Jane, and then she laughed. "Oh my God, you remember that? The prom party?"

"Of course."

Both shared a warm laugh. Jane wiped the tears of her face and took a long look at the mess the policemen did to the place.

"Let's clean this place, shall we?"

They cleaned together and even Hamish helped picking his toys off the floor. It wasn't until two hours later that they had the entire place back as it was. The books were in their place, so the plates, the spoons, the things of the fridge and even the cushions of the sofa.

"Chinese?"

"Sorry?"

"If you want Chinese," repeated Sherlock.

Jane looked at Hamish sleepy form on the sofa and thought about it.

"Actually, I need to go to work."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I work as a waitress in a very fancy restaurant -"

"I know."

"Mycroft told you."

"Yes."

"I... do you happen to know when is Mrs Hudson coming back?"

"No, but judging by the way she sounded last time I saw her, she might not be coming back before Friday. I can look after Hamish."

Jane shook her head. "No, I'm not sure..."

"I know how to prepare bottles," said he, trying to convince Jane.

She looked at her watch. She had twenty minutes to leave. Jane knew she didn't have enough time to take Hamish to Lucy's and she couldn't take Hamish with her to work. She didn't have another choice if she wanted to keep the job. And she needed the money.

"Okay."

Jane changed into her uniform; dark shirt, dark pleat side skirt and matching flat shoes. She was wearing a pair of little pearl stud earrings and a bit of lipstick on her lips. Her hair was perfectly done.

"This is my phone number and this is the number of the restaurant," said Jane as she handed Sherlock a piece of paper with two different numbers written on it and a book. "Call me if something happens. This is his favourite book, in page fifteen you'll find his favourite tale. Try not to put too much sugar on his bottle, that makes him feel a bit sick."

Sherlock closed his mouth. Jane took his breath away when she appeared in front of him, with those clothes that made her look more beautiful than she already was. "You look beautiful, Jane."

Jane immediately remembered all the times Sherlock had said that. Before going to their prom party, before getting married, during their first Christmas dinner together...

But she preferred to ignore him. "Call me if something happens,  _please_."

"I - everything is going to be okay."

"Sherlock, please promise me you'll keep an eye on him. Just... don't make me  _regret_  this, please. _"  
_

Jane knew Sherlock had good intentions. She knew he wanted to make amends, to be good to them and prove her he was clean, that he could keep an eye on Hamish. But Jane never stopped thinking about her son, how was he, if he was missing her, what was Sherlock doing to keep him calm.

On her work, Jane couldn't concentrate. She missed two orders and had to go and ask the people at one table which had been their order - twice - because she couldn't remember. Luckily for her, the costumers hadn't complain, so her boss didn't know about it. Jane felt the night was long and the only thing she wanted was to go back and check Hamish was okay.

* * *

Sherlock was on the kitchen working on his microscope when he heard a pair of small, short, quiet footsteps. As soon as he looked at the door, he found Hamish staring at him with curious eyes and holding his book. It was a bit late, however, Sherlock knew Jane was coming back soon. And he didn't want her to be angry at him; he knew Hamish was to sleep.

"Lulla-by. Lullaby!"

The detective smiled at him and took Hamish in his arms. "Want me to sing you a lullaby, Hamish?"

"Baby Bun-ting!"

Sherlock remembered Jane singing that lullaby the previous night. It wasn't a difficult thing to do, sing to a kid. It wasn't rocket science, it wasn't mixing chemicals, and it definitely wasn't solving a crime. Singing a lullaby to a small kid shouldn't be difficult.

Sherlock sat with Hamish on his lap and covered him with an orange blanket he found on the sitting room. "Well, let's see... Baby Bunting," said he as he looked at the book. "I can deduce it is your favourite lullaby?"

Hamish nodded, sleepy. "Mu-mummy read-s... reads it."

_"Bye, baby Bunting,_

_Daddy's gone a-hunting,_

_Gone to get a rabbit skin_

_To wrap the baby Bunting in."_

"Again!"

Sherlock repeated the lullaby three times until he noted Hamish was sleepy. But Hamish looked sleepy, and that was no guarantee he was going to sleep any time soon. He remembered something his mother used to do with him when he couldn't sleep. Sherlock took Hamish to his room with a bottle and placed him on Jane's old side of the bed. He lied down next to him and cuddled him while watching how he drank his bottle until he eventually fell asleep. Sherlock smiled at Hamish' sleeping face. Sherlock felt happy, very happy he was finally embracing his  _son_ , Hamish, and it felt right. It felt warm, and perfect.

And it didn't take him much time until he closed his eyes too.

* * *

When Jane opened the door, she ran upstairs to check on Hamish, but he was not on his bed. Actually, he was not in her room upstairs and Jane started panicking. She ran downstairs, to the sitting room, but he wasn't there either. On the kitchen table was a forgotten experiment and Sherlock's microscope and nothing else.

Jane heard Sherlock's light snoring coming from his room. She opened the door, slowly, and had to press a hand to her mouth. There on that big bed she used to share with Sherlock was him and her son, Hamish. The little boy was resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder, and Sherlock had an arm around him. Sherlock was cuddling her son and Jane let the tears go out.

The image was perfect, they looked so perfect together. Both looked like they belonged to each other. And Jane couldn't help but think she wished this could be true, that this, Sherlock and Hamish together could have happened since the first day. Jane wished drugs had never existed, that Hamish was born when he had to be born and that Sherlock didn't have to leave them.

Maybe they could be a family.

Maybe.


	47. 136

The following morning, Sherlock woke up feeling a pair of blue eyes on him.

"Sherwock! Sher-wock wake-up. Mummy-mmy made breakfas'"

Sherlock opened his eyes and sat on his bed. Soon he realised Hamish was wide awake, which meant he had woken up a few minutes - not a few, to be honest -and there was the distinctive smell of toast and coffee on the air. Sherlock did not move until Hamish grabbed his hand and gestured him to get off the bed, and he accomplished. The young detective put on his blue gown and took Hamish' hand. The little boy moved freely around his room and both walked to the sitting room where Jane was pouring coffee on his mug and tea on hers. There was a blue plastic mug with milk and toast with jam.

"Morning."

Sherlock sat helped Hamish to sit on his high chair. "Morning."

In front of him was Jane, placing the blue plastic mug in front of Hamish. "Drink your milk, Hamish."

Jane curled his lips for Sherlock, giving him just a little smile and placed 'The Telegraph' among other papers to his side. Sherlock murmured a 'thank you' for the coffee and closed his eyes as soon as he felt the dark, not so sweet, hot coffee running down his throat. It was just as he liked it. And it seemed Jane still knew how he liked his coffee. This made him feel relieved, somehow hopeful.

Her tone was soft, friendly, noted Sherlock. She didn't look angry, all the opposite. Her hair was damp, it looked like she had a shower before making breakfast. Jane looked healthier, at least better than she looked a few days ago before her arrival to Baker Street.

There was a long, comfortable silence between them every now and then broken by Hamish complaining because he wanted to have his bottle.

"You can't have bottles, Hamish. You're a big boy now."

Hamish looked close to tears. "Mummy... want my bo-bottle pwease!"

"It's 'please' and no. Drink your milk."

"Mummy!"

"If you drink your milk I'll take you to the park," said Sherlock, not really thinking why he said that and ignoring Jane's surprised eyes.

Hamish' eyes lit and the boy drank all his milk, with long sips, leaving an empty mug between his mother and Sherlock's mugs.

"Park! Park-par-park!"

Jane helped him off his high chair and put him on his play pen. "Play with your toys, Hamish."

"But Sherwock -"

"Play with your toys now. We'll talk later."

Jane returned to the table and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Thanks for looking after Hamish. I changed my shifts, I'll be working in the afternoons while he's in nursery."

Sherlock nodded, and then he understood. "I can look after him, you don't need to change your shifts."

"It's okay, Sherlock. I already talked to my boss. And thanks for helping me with... He needs to leave his bottle."

"No, it's fine. I'll take him to the park, if you let me of course."

"No."

"Why not?"

She bit her lip. "Listen, Sherlock. I know you're clean and I know you want to make amends, but you don't need to do this. Hamish is not your son. We're your flatmates. That's all."

"He's my son -"

"We know he's not," said Jane, softly. "Sherlock, please don't make it more difficult than it already is."

Jane too Hamish to the bathroom, to help him with his bath leaving Sherlock alone staring at the forgotten toys and the empty mugs.

* * *

The following day, Jane was back from work with Hamish. Sherlock was already making tea when they came in, and Jane thanked him. Things were still awkward between them, Jane spoke little to Sherlock and vice versa, but at least they shared meals together, and Hamish seemed to have got along with Sherlock. The little kid loved to touch Sherlock's dark curls and compare them with his. Hamish loved Baker Street.

Sherlock showed Jane the books he was reading and both shared a long talk. As a medical student, Jane explained Sherlock the medical facts concerning Hamish hearing, learning and development' problems. Jane told him he was going deaf in his right ear, but that meant he was not completely deaf - he could hear less than anyone else. About his developmental delay, Jane explained Sherlock she knew nothing yet. She was told she had to wait and see how Hamish would progress, however, he was behind normal children and it was obvious; he struggled with words, and his vocabulary was limited even though Jane made huge efforts to improve that.

They made an agreement, and Sherlock and Jane decided they would try to live a peaceful life together; Sherlock was not going to try to be Hamish' father. They were all flatmates, Jane and Hamish upstairs in their room and Sherlock downstairs in his. And that was it.

For now.

A few weeks later, things settled down in Baker Street. Every day, Jane and Hamish would have breakfast with Sherlock, or sometimes without him when he was away working on the cases from his website. Then, she went to class while Hamish attended nursery. Since Mrs Hudson was not taking her money, Jane was able to pay for Hamish' nursery herself. She sent Greg's monthly cheque back and since that drugs bust in which she discovered all about Sherlock's start with cocaine Jane hadn't spoke a word to him. Then, she would go to work in the afternoon and afterwards, she picked Hamish and both went to Baker Street. Another thing she accepted was Sherlock and Mrs Hudson' help. They liked to keep an eye on Hamish while she studied and revised. The last thing they shared every day was a calm, quiet dinner together and nothing else.

Life in Baker Street was nice and Jane felt she could have a future. A better future now.

"Yoo-hoo, isn't the bell working?"

Sherlock glanced at Hamish, who was happily, quietly playing with his toys and continued typing on his computer, ignoring Mrs Hudson's comment and the young man behind her.

"Is Jane here?"

"Shower," was the only thing Sherlock replied.

"Sorry, Sherlock but I'm baking and I need to go otherwise my cookies will be ruined!"

As soon as Mrs Hudson left Sherlock and the young man alone, Hamish turned and saw him. "Bill!"

'Bill' as it seemed to be his name, smiled at Hamish and took him in his arms. "Hello Hamish, how are you?" This made Bill earn a confused look coming from Sherlock.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, sorry. Is Jane here? I need to talk to her."

"Who are you?"

"Sorry, I'm Bill. You must be Jane's flatmate?"

Sherlock stood up and took his hand. His deductive eyes didn't leave this 'Bill' man for a second. Essex. Divorced parents. He lived in London, had a flatmate who moved in recently and has a strange fixation for dogs. This Bill was single, but there was a love interest. He was deeply interested for a girl of his class. The level of personal grooming was high, however, he was not gay, he was simply trying to catch this woman's interest by -

"Bill!"

Sherlock looked back. Jane appeared wearing nothing but her gown and a towel around her shoulders. Her short hair was damp and her cheeks were furiously flushed after her shower.

Bill placed Hamish on the floor and kissed Jane's cheek. "Honey, I was worried. Are you okay?"

_Honey._

Why this man was calling Jane 'Honey'? Sherlock looked at both, trying to deduce them, but he could not. There was something within his chest, a strange feeling Sherlock had once experienced and seemed to have deleted from his hard drive. It was a heavy feeling within his chest when his eyes met Bill's hand on Jane and his interested eyes on her. Sherlock didn't like watching how he touched her hand, her arms, how he kissed her cheek because he was not allowed to do that. Why was he touching her? Why Jane allowed this 'Bill' to touch her?

Sherlock was  _jealous_.

"Yeah, I had to take Hamish to doctor."

"Oh, is he okay?"

Jane nodded. "Yes, he's -"

"You didn't tell me he had a medical appointment," said Sherlock, cutting Jane off.

"It was nothing."

"Sorry mate, you didn't tell me your name."

Sherlock extended his hand. "Sherlock Holmes."

As soon as Bill heard his name, he turned to face Jane. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was looking at Jane waiting for explanations. Jane had told him about her past, about Hamish, about Sherlock... about everything. Bill was her best friend and he knew all about her. He knew she was once married to Sherlock Holmes. And now he was there again, with Jane and Hamish.

"Professor Jenkins asked for you. And I brought you the notes from last class," said Bill, ignoring Sherlock.

And Sherlock saw this.

And he immediately realised Bill knew about him. About Jane and him.

"I was worried you didn't come to class today. It was our last class before the exams and Mr Jenkins asked for you," explained Bill.

Jane shook her head. "Yeah, I had to take Hamish to see a doctor and - God, I forgot all about today's class."

"I bought my notes."

"Thank you Bill! Just give me five to change my clothes and then we can take a look at those notes."

"Actually, I want to invite you and Hamish downstairs, to Speedy's. It seems to be a good place," said Bill.

"Yes, it is."

"I'll wait outside."

Once in Speedy's, Jane ordered some milk for Hamish and looked at Bill's notes when he took her hand.

"Jane, why are you living with him? As you said yourself, he hurt you."

"He's clean."

"Are you sure?"

Jane nodded. "I'm sure, Bill."

"You can move with me. You and Hamish. You don't need him -"

"We're fine, Bill. I appreciate your offer, but we're fine here. Hamish loves Sherlock and -"

"You still love him," said Bill, softly.

Jane ignored his words and continued reading.

* * *

They were eating dinner when Sherlock asked the question.

"He's the man you met that day."

Jane continued helping Hamish with his food. "Yes."

Without saying a word about it, both knew they were talking about the time when Sherlock grabbed her hand violently and forbade her to go to Med School and meet Bill Murray again.

"He's my friend."

"He knows."

"Yes."

Silently, Jane took Hamish upstairs. Sherlock knew Bill had feelings for Jane. But he wanted to know if those feelings were reciprocated.

Sherlock was so blind.


	48. Pour Me

"What are you doing here?"

Greg glanced at Mrs Hudson and the old landlady closed the door behind her back, leaving Jane and Greg alone.

Jane was revising while Hamish was napping when Mrs Hudson opened the door of 221 B saying Detective Inspector Lestrade wanted to talk to her. It didn't matter how much Jane refused to see him, and how much she begged, but Greg was already behind Mrs Hudson and he did not accept a no.

"Jane, I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" snapped Jane, angrily.

Greg knew this was not easy, but he couldn't bear to lose Jane. He loved her as if she was his daughter, his real daughter. Greg met Jane when she was just a little girl of fifteen years. He saw her growing up, hanging around with Sherlock when they were teenagers, then getting married and he even wiped the tears off her face when Sherlock beat her to a bloody pulp and almost made her lost her son. He had been with her in good and bad times, and that made Greg see he loved Jane like a father would love his daughter. And he couldn't bear her silence anymore.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know you don't want to hear this, but I didn't know. I didn't know he was going to  _use_  it. I swear to you, I didn't know."

"Was it worth it?"

"What?"

Jane folded her arms over her chest. "If making Sherlock an addict was worth it. Are those dealers in jail now?"

"No. They are free."

"Greg -"

"Listen to me, Jane. I should have taken the drugs off him before he could use them, I know. I'm sorry."

"Yes, you should have done it!" hissed Jane, angrily. "You should have done it and maybe none of this would have happened. God, I don't know what to think anymore. It was my fault, it had always been my fault!"

"No, it wasn't. None of this is your fault, Jane."

Greg embraced Jane on a tight hug and Jane didn't fight him, she let him touch her and Jane cried in his arms. She felt like a little girl again, and Jane remembered when her father used to hug her like that, tightly, when she cried after Harry had pulled at her hair or something like that.

"I'm sorry, Jane."

* * *

"Greg wants you back."

Jane was reading a book while Hamish was upstairs sleeping when Sherlock arrived. He glanced at the plate with risotto on the table and sat in front of Jane. Over the table were some books and the papers.

Sherlock frowned. "Oh, have you talked to him?"

"He was in a hurry. Apparently an important bank manager has been kidnapped and he needs you in the investigation."

"He wasn't kidnapped. He arranged everything so it would look like it. It's obvious."

Jane curled her lips. "Not obvious to them, apparently. Have you read about it?"

"Mr Jones wants her wife to stop the divorce. He believes by faking his kidnapping his wife will reconsider it. Not clever."

"So? Will you solve it then?"

"There's nothing to be solved."

"Take a look at this then," said Jane as he handed him the newspaper. "If he has 'kidnapped himself' as you said, then why his wife was sent her husband's index finger?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up. The article was somehow... promising, and he knew he needed a case - a proper case - so badly. He was fed up with domestic cases left on his website. Looking for runaway kids, teenagers, missing pets, and following unfaithful husbands, wives only to confirm obvious suspicions... it was something he did not like. And now Greg wanted him again.

He took his coat and his gloves. "Are you coming?"

"Sounds thrilling, but no."

"Mrs Hudson can look after Hamish," suggested Sherlock.

Jane shook her head. "Be careful, will you?"

* * *

"Please Jane, it'll be fun! All the class is going."

"I can't."

"Your landlady can look after Hamish. You said she loves him."

"I don't like those parties, Bill."

The following day, both Bill and Jane were working on one of Bart's lab when he invited Jane to go to the party one of their classmates was organizing. The only requirement was to bring something to drink or eat and nothing else. Everyone had been invited, and the only one who seemed not to like the idea was Jane.

Bill placed an arm around her shoulders and smiled at her. "Oh c'mon, don't be a stick on the mud. It'll be good, I promise."

After considering it for a moment, Jane accepted. "Okay."

Later that day, Mrs Hudson accepted looking after Hamish happily, even though Jane was still not convinced about going to the party. Not like she didn't get on well with her classmates, all the opposite in fact, but she wasn't sure. Jane felt as she didn't deserve to have fun, as if she was meant to stay at home with her son, but Bill told her she needed to get some fresh air and to get some fun. She knew her friend was right, she needed and wanted to meet her friends outside university and maybe that party was not going to be that bad.

Jane finished putting on some light pink lipstick on her lips when Bill arrived. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white shirt and his dark coat. His hair was combed to the side and he was also wearing perfume.

"Hello Bill."

Bill kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful tonight, Jane."

She was wearing that blue dress she brought a few months ago with Lucy, flat shoes and a knitted dark blue cardigan. Jane's short hair was combed to the side, her fair short locks secured with a small blue barrette. She was also wearing those stud pearl earrings and lipstick.

"Thanks."

When both arrived at their classmate' house, the party had already begun. They said hi to everyone and sat together on a couch, both with a pint in their hands and soon they found themselves talking to a group of their class.

Everyone commented on how nice Jane looked, as they were all used to see her wearing jeans and jumpers and that night she was wearing a dress. Even Bill was told about it and one of his friends asked him if he was finally dating Jane Watson. Obviously, Bill denied it, but he was told Jane would say yes if he asked her.

"Have you asked her out, Billy boy?"

Bill shook his head at Jack, one of his classmates. "No, we're friends."

"Oh come on. You sat together in every bloody class, everywhere I look at you're together."

"D'you think she'll say yes?"

"Hell yes. Go for it, Billy."

And Bill thought it was not a bad idea. He liked Jane. And to him, Jane was the one.

But the night had another plans for them.

"What are you doing here?"

Sherlock took the pint off her hand and sat next to her, on the empty spot Bill left. "I need your assistance."

"What? Why?"

"The bank manager's body has been found. I need you to take a look at the body."

Jane glanced around and spotted a few confused looks on them. She didn't want their conversation to be heard, so she took Sherlock's hand and both went upstairs and got inside one of the rooms, leaving the door ajar, she didn't want anyone of her classmates to think the wrong thing.

"Sherlock, I can't - Why don't you work with the forensics?"

"Anderson is on forensics."

Jane frowned. "Anderson? Are you talking about -"

"Yes, Anderson. He's studying Forensic Science and he works in the Forensic team."

Both remembered Anderson as the most annoying teenager in their old school, and he used to bully both Sherlock and Jane, calling the former 'faggot', 'freak' and the latter 'limping girl' and 'the freak's puppy'. Jane had known nothing about him for a long time, and now it was a total surprise to find out he was on the force, studying Forensic Science.

"Forensic Science? Well, at least he's got brains."

"Brains? His theory about the dead body's stupid."

Jane looked at her watch. "I promised Mrs Hudson I'd be back before midnight. What happened to your chin?"

Jane placed both of her hands on Sherlock's shoulders and made him sit on the edge of the bed. There was blood on his chin and using her handkerchief, Jane cleaned the blood off his face.

"Had a fight?"

"You look beautiful, Jane," said he, looking into her eyes.

Both were so close. Their faces, their eyes, their mouths were inches apart. Sherlock could feel Jane's breathing on his face, so close to him and he was very, but very close to her lips. It was the first time they were so close in years, and since Jane moved to Baker Street weeks ago.

"Sherlock..."

"Can I kiss you?"

Sherlock placed both of his hands on Jane's waist, moving her closer. Jane couldn't say a word, she felt intoxicated by Sherlock's grayish eyes on her, on his lips so close to meet hers and his soft hands on her body.

And both ignored Bill looking at them from the half opened door.

Their lips met in a very soft, slow kiss. Both had their eyes closed, and for a moment, Jane forgot everything, everything for their past; their laughter, their afternoons after school, when she cried in his arms when she realised she was pregnant, when they got married, their first time together, their cuddles, Sherlock's yelling and his hands on her body, not caressing her but hitting her.

Jane cupped Sherlock's face and the kiss deepened. Using the hands on her waist, Sherlock pulled Jane closer. She sat on his lap, placing both thighs on each side of Sherlock's legs. Her arms were around his neck and soon both found themselves kissing frenetically.

"Jane, I love you -"

Both heard the door of the room being closed and Jane ended the kiss. She stood up and straightened her dress, shyly.

"Jane -"

"We shouldn't have done that."

Sherlock didn't say anything to that, but the expression on his face was enough to see he was hurt.

"Will you take a look at the body?"

"Yes, believe it or not, I'm pretty good at determining death causes," said she, in a jokingly voice, changing the subject.

Both went downstairs, but before they could leave, Jane ran into Bill. Sherlock ignored him and told Jane he was going outside to get a cab.

"I'm sorry, but I've to go."

"What was he doing here, Jane? How did he get here?"

Jane took her cardigan and her purse. "It's a long story - he's working on a case and he needs me to take a look at the body. I'm sorry, I'll see you next Monday, okay?"

She left before Bill could say something else. But from the window, Bill saw Jane getting into a cab with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Jane was facing a dead body. Even though she was quite used to it, thanks to Bart's mortuary and the countless corpses she had worked with in her anatomy lessons, seeing a new one wasn't going to make her feel sick.

She put on a pair of gloves and knelt next to the body. It was the bank manager indeed, who Jane had seen a picture of a few days before on the papers. He was dressed on a suit, his clothes were blood stained and the index finger of his left hand was missing, as his wedding ring, a tie - if he was ever wearing one at the moment of his kidnapping - and it looked as if he had been tortured.

"Can't smell alcohol, neither can I see substances on him. He was a healthy man I'd say judging by his toned body. There are some bruises, not so deep cuts... he'd been tortured before being killed," said Jane as she examined the body.

Greg frowned. "Would you say the cuts on his body killed him or was he killed -"

"The bleeding didn't kill him," said she, cutting Greg off. "He didn't lose much blood, there are specifics cuts on his body meant to cause pain, but he was definitely killed by that gunshot on his forehead."

"The theory presented by your forensic Anderson is wrong. Jones was not killed while being tortured but by a shot between his eyebrows," said Sherlock as he finished looking at the dead body himself.

Jane nodded. "Which was Anderson's theory?"

"He said Jones died after being tortured and that he was later shot at the head. I believed it could be a possibility, Anderson's bright -"

"He's not bright. He's stupid."

"Well, it could have been a possibility, Sherlock," said Jane.

"What do you mean?"

"The cuts on his body would have never killed him, but the theory is not bad. I've seen some corpses with wounds made after the person had died."

Greg nodded. "But this is not the case, is it?"

"No -"

"It was her lover," said Sherlock, cutting Jane off. "Jones' wife has a lover. He killed him."

"How do you know?" asked Jane.

"I interviewed her. She looked upset, but far from  _really_  upset. You read about the case on the papers and the gossip in this case came in handy. She wanted the divorce, but Jones didn't. He planned his self kidnapping but he didn't know the man who was helping him was no one else but his own wife's lover. That explains why he doesn't have his wedding ring and his tie."

"Why his tie?"

"Present from his wife, Mrs Jones said so when asked what her husband was wearing the day he was kidnapped."

Jane smiled. "That's brilliant!"

Sherlock solved that case and after getting Mrs Jones in prison, Greg got Sherlock into his division again. Somehow, solving this stupid case made Greg realise Jane was right. Sherlock was clean. And he was as clever as he used to be.

Nevertheless, things were still stiff between the Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard and Sherlock. Greg only talked to Sherlock when he needed to and vice versa. The young detective kept his own deductions to himself and only spoke when he was asked to. Sherlock was not amazed by Greg's new team, and they were still as useless as the ones he remembered. Sherlock Holmes was back in the game.

After that night, neither of them mentioned the kiss. But every time they looked into their eyes, when their arms touched by accident or when they were inches apart, they ignored each other and the sexual tension increased.


	49. Things I don't Understand

A month after Sherlock had finally joined Greg's team, both Sherlock and Jane suffered the sexual tension between them. Without really meaning to, there were moments in which both couldn't stop the closeness of their bodies, the moments their hands touched by accident or when they shared simple things such as breakfast, lunch or dinner together.

To Jane, kissing Sherlock's lips made her realise how much she missed being touched, caressed, loved. It had been a long time since she last kissed someone, and the last time she did was that night in which she saw Sherlock snorting cocaine. She kissed him goodnight and since that time three years ago, Jane never dated a man. Kissing again, kissing  _Sherlock_  again felt sweet, good and Jane couldn't help but think about it all the time.

It was dangerous, she knew Sherlock was able to deduce everything, with a glance she knew Sherlock would know everything. But Jane couldn't help but turn as red as a tomato every time Sherlock was around.

And things were awkward.

One night she was heading to her room after having a shower and she ran into Sherlock. It was past midnight when Jane ran into him and she almost dropped the towel which was covering her body.

"Sorry."

"I need to go to my room," said Jane as Sherlock was still standing in front of her an not moving.

"Yes."

But Sherlock didn't move.

"Sherlock, I need to go upstairs."

"Oh yes, sorry, yes."

Jane's legs were shaking while she walked the stairs to her room.

But downstairs, Sherlock couldn't help but get something more than shaking legs and blushing cheeks.

It wasn't easy for Sherlock neither. The kiss made him remember the warmness of Jane's lips, how good she felt and how sweet her kisses were. Every night, when he was alone in his room and when he couldn't sleep, when he heard the water running in the bathroom, knowing Jane was having a shower, Sherlock remembered their kiss in that party, his hands on her waist, her hands caressing the skin of his neck, her weight over his lap and the warmness of her mouth on his.

Sherlock remembered their nights together before the whole drugs episode. He remembered Jane's body over or underneath his, her porcelain skin, her legs, her arms, her hands on his body, her moaning every time he made her orgasm, her sweet, thin lips on him, her everything. Sherlock missed her deadly.

And every night, while hearing the water running on the bathroom, Sherlock had to take care of the things going under his pants.

Why Jane had to wear those tight jeans?

"But these look good on you. Aren't tight jeans fashionable these days?"

Sherlock was working on a experiment on the kitchen when Mrs Hudson brought them their clean clothes.

"I've put on a lot of weight recently," admitted Jane, a bit sadly.

"Nonsense. You were so skinny, dear! Now you look healthier."

"These jeans don't fit me!"

"Oh, stop complaining, Jane! You look good, doesn't she Sherlock?" asked the landlady as she went to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

Sherlock blushed, but before he could say something Jane appeared on the kitchen and handed Sherlock his clothes. She was blushing, and Sherlock looked at her. The jeans were tight, but she wasn't fat as she said.

Jane looked so good.

And Sherlock had to cross his legs.

* * *

"Mummy! Want mummy!"

Mrs Hudson smiled at Hamish and took his hand. "Are you going too, Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"He's got a case."

Both left together and shared a cab. Jane sat far from Sherlock and stared at the window when Sherlock took her hand. "Can I go?"

"It's only for parents."

* * *

"Nice to meet you, you must be Hamish's mother, I'm Miss Smith," said a kind young woman, one of the teachers.

Jane shook her hand. "Jane Watson, nice to meet you."

The teacher, Miss Smith told the about Hamish progress. His speech, as his vocabulary was improving amazingly and Miss Smith also mentioned the fact Hamish was quite interested in nature and science.

"He likes to draw animals and this is his favourite game," said Miss Smith as she showed Jane a puzzle, quite complicated for an almost three-year-old boy with developmental delay like Hamish. It was a puzzle with animals. "I'm also impressed by Hamish' vocabulary. He can even pronounce the names of some of the elements of the periodic table."

Jane looked surprised. She immediately knew it was because of Sherlock. Hamish liked to sit with him and watch him making experiments.

She was told if Hamish keep progressing and working very hard, he could get into a normal school in a few years.

* * *

"Jane, I was about to call you," said Mrs Hudson, worriedly.

"Is Hamish okay?"

"Oh yes, he's sleeping. It's Sherlock."

Jane let go a relieved sigh.

"He was all a mess! He didn't want to tell me, but I think he was hit or -"

"I'll check on him. Do you think you can keep an eye on Hamish for a few minutes while I check if Sherlock's okay?"

Mrs Hudson nodded. "Oh sure, let him stay here tonight."

Jane went upstairs and looked for Sherlock everywhere. The flat was dark and silent, she couldn't even hear his light snoring. He wasn't even in his room, so Jane tried on the bathroom.

She knocked the bathroom door. "Sherlock... it's me, are you okay? Mrs Hudson said you were hurt."

"I'm fine."

Jane knew he was not fine as he said he was. She opened the door and found Sherlock lying on the bathtub. The water was pink, and Jane immediately knew he was bleeding. Sherlock had his eyes closed and he looked deeply lost in thought.

"You're bleeding."

"Brilliant deduction."

"Oh well, you're fine then."

"You said I'm bleeding and now that I'm fine?"

Jane knelt next to the bathtub and checked on a cut Sherlock had on his left shoulder. "Bad case?"

"I didn't know they had knives."

"Are you feeling dizzy? Have you vomited?"

"No."

"Then, take this and get out the tub so I can take a look at those cuts," said Jane as she handed him a towel. Sherlock looked at her, but he didn't take the towel. "What? Oh, I've seen you naked Sherlock. I'll get my med kit, wait in your room and don't touch the cuts."

As soon as Jane left, Sherlock got up and wrapped the towel around his hips. He hissed a bit, he as clearly in pain and he managed to walk to his room, where he sat on the edge of his bed and waited for Jane.

When Jane returned, Sherlock noted, she had changed her clothes and now she was wearing her pyjamas; a pair of gray shorts and a old baggy blue tee. She placed the med kit on the bed next to him and put on gloves.

"What kind of knives did they use?"

"Normal ones, taken from the victim's kitchen."

Jane started cleaning the cut on Sherlock's shoulder, and Sherlock hissed a few times until she patched it up. "Well, those are not deep cuts, so these bandages should do."

There were also two more cuts, one on Sherlock's left hand and the other one on his left thigh. While she cleaned the cuts and patched them up, she told Sherlock about Hamish' teacher and all the things she was told about his progress.

"And she said that Hamish can pronounce some elements of the periodic table,"

"Hamish finds fascinating to learn complicated words."

"No STD's?"

Sherlock looked at her. "I'm clean."

"Well I'll be calm if you repeat those blood tests again," said Jane while finishing patching Sherlock's left hand up.

"Why?"

"You've been attacked with knives, Sherlock."

They didn't say a word. The tension between them could have easily been cut using a knife. Jane didn't meet Sherlock's eyes until she finished with his wounds and get everything back into her med bag, when Sherlock reached out for her wrist. Both looked into their eyes for a few seconds, and the world seemed to have stopped. Sherlock and Jane felt their hearts pounding within their chests and they knew they needed to feel their mouths together again.

Both moved together against each other. When their lips met, both had their eyes closed. This kiss was completely different from the one they had a moth ago at that party. It was passionate, deep, full of desire and love. Jane's arms were around Sherlock's neck, trying to pull him close to her, while Sherlock's hands moved over her back, from her neck to her lower back until they found their right place on her waist. Soon Jane's hands move to Sherlock's bare, still wet chest and she caressed the skin there, making Sherlock bit her lip while kissing.

Sherlock started pulling at her shirt, and Jane eventually got rid of it, making it fall to the floor and breaking the contact between then for two seconds until Sherlock got to his feet and claimed for her lips once again. During those two seconds Sherlock's eyes were on Jane, on her perfect body, on her breasts, on her porcelain skin.

As soon as they kissed again, Sherlock pushed Jane until she was on his bed and he placed himself between her legs. The towel around his hips was already forgotten on the floor when Jane lifted her legs and glued them to his waist. Jane was still wearing those shorts, but Sherlock didn't care. He thrust and Jane threw her head back as she felt Sherlock's mouth moving downwards to her chest. Sherlock had pulled at her bra straps, until her breasts were free and now while he thrust he kissed and sucked her nipples, making Jane melt under him.

"Ah... Sherlock..."

"Jane, I need you."

"I need you too, Sherlock," said Jane as she felt Sherlock's hardness between her legs. "But I -"

"I've missed you so much, please."

When Jane felt Sherlock pulling at her shorts, she remembered it. She remembered Sherlock pulling at her clothes that night, when he was high, when he tried to take her without her consent, when she was bleeding and losing her baby.

Jane got off Sherlock and started looking for her tee. "I can't... I can't do this."

"Jane -"

"I can't kiss you without remembering that night, Sherlock," said Jane, with tears in her eyes. "I just can't... I can't be with you."

Sherlock saw Jane leaving and he remembered that night too. He remembered Jane's pleading, begging him to stop it because she was in pain and he knew she was bleeding, she saw it and he didn't care.

* * *

The following morning, Jane work up very early and took Hamish with her to have breakfast in a coffee shop. She thought she wasn't going to be able to face Sherlock after what had happened between them.

Jane was dying inside. She wanted Sherlock so badly. Feeling Sherlock's body over hers, his lips on hers, on her body, her long, soft hands on her breasts and everywhere... she missed him. She missed him so bad but she wouldn't admit it. Jane was not going to admit it, but she was dying to be with Sherlock again, to feel him inside her, to kiss him and to say the words she had within her heart.

Jane still loved Sherlock.

And if she ever fell out of love, now she was falling again for Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Mycroft looked at the pictures in his hands. All of them were very... important. Mycroft Holmes knew all those pictures could destroy the most powerful family in Britain, and that  _woman_  ought to be stopped. Someone had to stop her.

Before it could be too late.

A very important person to her dear old friend was involved, and not only her, but also the public image of the country.

And Mycroft was not going to let that happen. He was not going to let that woman, Irene Adler, keep playing this game.

* * *

"Now, show me to the stream," instructed Sherlock, still wrapped with a sheet, staring at the landscape.

A man appeared at his flat begging for him to solve a case. A hitchhiker was found dead.

And it was all a mystery.

"Closer."

"I was in class, Sherlock!"

"Well, it's hardly  _my_  fault you weren't listening," said Sherlock when the doorbell rang again. "Shut up!"

"Yeah. And if you're thinking gunshot, there wasn't one. He wasn't shot; he was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer. That's gotta be an eight at least."

"You've got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver," said the D.I. in charge and Jane nodded.

"Oh, forget him. He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?"

"I think he's a suspect!"

"Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?"

The D.I. shook his head. "He's trying to be clever. It's over-confidence."

"Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy – and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?"

"Heart what?" asked the man from behind Sherlock, but the young detective just ignored him.

Two men in black suits appeared on the flat. And Sherlock knew who they were.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes. You're coming with us."

"Sherlock... what's going on?" asked Jane, hearing the foreign voices. But Sherlock closed the communication.

"Miss Watson?" Jane nodded at the police officer. "This is for you."

Jane' eyes widened when she saw an helicopter a few feet from her.

* * *

Sherlock was given a pile of his own clothes. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Please, Mr. Holmes. Where you're going, you'll want to be dressed."

Sherlock looked at them from head to toes and hew knew who they were and where he was going. They were unarmed, manicured nails, right handed - both - looking at their shoes, Sherlock knew they were indoor workers and the hairs on their trousers legs - three small dogs.

"Oh, I know  _exactly_  where I'm going."


	50. Invisible In Your Eyes

Jane didn't look surprised at the sight of himself wearing nothing but a sheet wrapped around him, Sherlock noted. She only sat next to him and looked at the place in wonder. There was a faint shade of pink on her cheeks as she looked around.

"Are you wearing any pants?"

"No."

"Okay."

For seconds neither of them pronounced a word until their heads turned, their eyes met and both burst out laughing. "What are we doing here, Sherlock? Buckingham Palace?"

"I don't know."

"Here to see the Queen?" suggested Jane with a smile when Mycroft appeared. "Apparently, yes!" said Sherlock and both laughed together again. Jane's cheeks were furiously pink, while Sherlock smiled in a way Mycroft haven't seen before.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Can you behave like the grown-ups you are?"

"I just can't believe I'm here, he solves crimes and forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

Sherlock's face went serious as he stood up to meet his brother's eyes. "I was in the middle of a case."

"Ha-ha, the hiker and the backfire? Bit obvious, surely?"

"Transparent."

"Time to move on then," said the older Holmes as he took Sherlock's pile of clothes from the table and placed them on Sherlock's lap. "We're in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation, Sherlock Holmes, put on your trousers on!"

"What for?"

"Your client."

"And my client is?"

"Illustrious..." replied an old man, close to his sixty, stepping into the room. "And entirely anonymous."

"May I just apologise for the state of my little brother?"

"Full-time occupation, I imagine," said the Equerry, making Sherlock scowl. "And this must be Jane Watson, Saint Bartholomew's medical student."

Jane smiled. "Hello, yes," both shook hands.

"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog. You should write again."

"Your employer? I haven't written a word in... ages."

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the pink lady."

"The first one," confirmed Jane. "Thank you!"

When Jane and Sherlock divorced and he disappeared from her life, Jane forgot all about that blog she used to have in which she wrote about Sherlock's cases, his experiments and so on.

The Equerry walked closer to Sherlock and extended his hand. "And Mr Holmes the younger. You look taller in the latest photographs, when you solved the case of the bank manager."

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short... friend," replied Sherlock, making Jane frown, not taking the offered hand. He walked past Jane and approached Mycroft. "I don't do anonymous clients."

As Mycroft didn't say a word, Sherlock walked to the door, but Mycroft stepped onto the trailing edge of the sheet behind him. Sherlock felt this and continued walking, with his pride on his chest, but he stopped and grabbed it before he would go completely naked. His bare torso was exposed, revealing the bandages Jane helped him with the night before.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up!"

"Get off my sheet!" snapped Sherlock, without turning.

"Or what?"

"I'll just walk away."

"I'll let you."

"Sherlock, please. Hamish behaves better than you do," said Jane, a bit exasperated.

"Then who is my client!"

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake..." explained Mycroft, until Sherlock's behaviour got on his nerves. "put your clothes on!"

Sherlock sighed and turned, took the pile of clothes and disappeared. He moved freely around the place and this made Jane think if he had ever been there before. But she had lived with him and his parents, Jane knew the Holmes owned half of the country and could get more if they wanted to.

When Sherlock returned, a maid placed a tea tray with enough cups and cookies for everyone.

"My employer has a problem."

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen," said Mycroft as he handed Jane a cup.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?"

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?"

"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust."

Jane sipped her tea. "So you don't trust your own people?"

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money," replied Mycroft and opened his briefcase, taking out some photographs of a considerable size and handed them to Sherlock, who looked at them carefully. "What do you know about this woman?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

"Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately."

Jane sipped more of her tea and she looked at the pictures from her place next to Sherlock. Those were pictures of a woman, a very pretty woman indeed, wearing nothing but underwear and suggestive clothes. She had dark hair, green eyes and red lips. Jane had to bit her lip, that woman was absolutely beautiful.

And she felt something within her chest as she saw Sherlock looking at all the pictures carefully.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?"

"Irene Adler, professionally known as  _'The Woman'_ "

"Professionally?" asked Jane.

Mycroft nodded. "There are many names for what she does. She prefers  _'dominatrix'_ "

"Dominatrix..." repeated Sherlock, thoughtfully.

"Don't look alarmed, Sherlock. It's to do with sex."

"Sex doesn't alarm me," snapped the young Holmes.

"Doesn't it anymore?"

Sherlock clenched his teeth and Jane cleared her throat painfully.

"She provides, shall we say, recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it."

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs."

"You're very quick, Mr. Holmes," said the Equerry, looking highly surprised.

"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?"

The man looked at Mycroft and both shared the same silence.

"You can't tell us anything?"

"I can tell you it's a young person... a young female person."

"How many photographs?"

"A considerable number, apparently."

"Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?"

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, they do."

"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios."

"An imaginative range, we are assured."

"Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?"

"How?"

"Will you take the case?"

Sherlock chuckled. "What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead,  _'Know when you are beaten'_ "

Sherlock turned to reach his coat and get himself ready to leave when Mycroft spoke again. "She doesn't want anything. She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour."

Jane looked how Sherlock's eye lit up at Mycroft's words. Now she was worrying.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Oh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it? Where is she?" asked Sherlock, getting up and putting his coat on.

"In London currently. She's staying -"

"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day."

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" asked the Equerry.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs."

One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think."

Sherlock, who was already walking to the door turned and looked at the man, deducing a lot of facts; dog lover, public school, horse rider, early riser, sleep on the left side of the bed, non smoker though he had a lighter on his pocket, father was half Welsh, keen reader and tea drinker. "I'll need some equipment, of course. Can I have a box of matches? Or a cigarette lighter, either will do."

"I don't smoke."

" _You_  don't smoke, but  _your_  employer does," snapped Sherlock.

There's a moment of silence in which none of the three men said a word and Jane felt the awkwardness growing inside her.

"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes."

"I'm not the Commonwealth."

Jane offered her hand to the Equerry and smiled. "That's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you."

"Laters!"

* * *

Jane was finishing feeding Hamish, when she heard a lot of noises coming from Sherlock's room and several clothes growing into a pile on his doorway. Even Hamish looked confused at the noise.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to a battle. I need the right armour."

A few seconds later he stepped on the kitchen wearing a large yellowish jacket, the one policemen use.

"What do you think, Hamish?"

Little Hamish looked at him and laughed, making Sherlock curl his lips upwards.

"No."

* * *

"Repeat it again, Sherlock. I promised Mrs Hudson I wouldn't leave Hamish with her for at least a week!"

The awkward, shy wall between them vanished when Sherlock asked Jane for her assistance. Sherlock looked completely excited, he was back on the game, and this case didn't involve the police - yet. It was like the old Sherlock Jane remembered and she missed him, Jane missed that Sherlock and she wanted to help him.

But inwardly, Jane wanted to go with him because she knew Sherlock was going to meet Miss Adler. Those pictures gave Jane enough information, evidence that Miss Adler was not a common woman. If Sherlock was going after those pictures, even if Sherlock was an expert to get what he wanted from the people involved in his cases, Jane knew this Adler woman was dangerous.

And Jane was jealous.

"We know her address. We ring her bell."

"Just that?"

"Exactly. Stop here!"

Both walked side by side to a quiet, deserted street and Sherlock took Jane's hand.

"Are we here?"

"Two streets away, but this'll do."

"For what?"

"Punch me in the face or slap me, either will do. Though slapping will require -"

"Punch or slap you?" asked Jane, confused.

"Yes. Punch me, in the face. Or slap me. Didn't you hear me?"

"Why?"

Sherlock bit his lip as he looked at Jane and came up with something to say that would make Jane feel angry, but all the options he had within his mind were quite hurtful. He didn't want to hurt Jane, again, only to make her punch him so he had an excuse to ring Miss Adler's bell.

This was going to hurt.

"I slapped Hamish when he messed with my experi-"

Before Sherlock could finish she had Jane's hand on his cheek. She slapped him hard across the face, quite hard, making his left cheek bleed. This made Sherlock stumble, and Jane jumped on him and tried to punch him on his stomach.

"I didn't do it!"

Jane shook her head, and kept on punching Sherlock on his stomach, even knowing her fists were not as hard as she wished they would be. "How could you!"

"Jane, you know I'm lying, I would never hurt Hamish!"

"I know! But I had bad days!"

It took Sherlock some minutes to tell Jane and make her understand it was a lie, that he never slapped Hamish, that he never hurt him and that he never would. Jane eventually told him she knew it was a lie, that he would never hurt Hamish. But she had had bad days and she needed to let it go.

"Are you okay? I think I overdid it," said Jane as she checked on Sherlock's bleeding cheek.

"I'm fine. Now, let's do it."

Sherlock rang the bell and got ready. There were fake tears on his eyes and blood on his cheek, falling down to his jaw and neck.

"Yes?" said a red haired woman as she opened the door of a very posh house.

"Oh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, I've just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they ... they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. Umm, please could you help me?"

Jane placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "I saw it all happen, I'm a nurse."

The red haired woman smiled and let them get in. "I'll ring the police. Want to wait inside?"

"Please," begged Sherlock, still crying.

"Have you got a first aid kit?"

Once inside Sherlock looked around, but still in character, wiping the tears off his face and avoiding his bleeding cheek.

"In the kitchen," said the red haired woman as she gestured Sherlock to have a sit in the living room and left with Jane walking behind her.

"Thank you."

Sherlock took his time, or at least the time he had until someone stepped in the room, and looked around. There was likely to be a safe box where the photographs would be in, but he needed to deduce, to know where.

Taking his long coat off, he felt a pair of high heels hitting the wooden floor. As the footsteps got closer, he sat down and held a handkerchief to his bleeding cheek and prepared more faked tears when she finally appeared.

"Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name."

"I'm so sorry, I'm -"

It was Irene Adler, wearing nothing but red lipstick.

She was completely naked.

Sherlock's jaw dropped a little at the sight of that naked woman.

"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" asked Irene, as she walked closer to him and stood in front of him. Irene pulled the white plastic collar from his shirt collar, the one that made him look like a vicar. "There now, we're both defrocked," said she and smiled at Sherlock. "Mr Sherlock Holmes."

"Miss Adler, I presume."

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?"

Irene bit the white plastic collar, as Sherlock looked at her confused and Jane stepped into the room carrying a bowl with water and a napkin. Her eyes showed the same confusion Sherlock's eyes had and she stared at them confused; at Sherlock's form on the sofa and at who seemed to be Irene Adler, who was naked in front of him.

"I should go."

Irene shook her head and gestured Jane to get in. "Please, sit down," said she and sat on the armchair in front of Sherlock, crossing her legs and folding her arms gracefully to obscure the view of her breasts. "Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid."

"I had tea at the Palace."

"I know."

"Clearly."

They stared at each other for several seconds. Jane felt her cheeks going red as she looked how Sherlock looked at her, maybe he was deducing her, Jane thought, but he looked interested. Sherlock was interested, he was interested in Irene Adler and Jane's eyes darkened when she realised she could never compete against her. Irene Adler was beautiful, her dark hair, her green eyes and long eyelashes, her pink lips and her cheekbones, she just looked like Sherlock.

Anyone could have said she was Sherlock's match.

And it hurt Jane.

"I should go," repeated Jane.

But Sherlock ignored this. And maybe he shouldn't have.

Sherlock continued staring at Irene, he was trying to deduce something, but he could not. This Irene Adler was indeed a mystery. A mystery Sherlock hadn't had since a long time ago.

And he wanted to deduce her.

Or maybe he was the one who had problems to deduce. Sherlock looked back at Jane, who was still standing next to the sofa and looked at her; two day shirt, not lipstick, looking at her shoes - had a date that night. This made Sherlock frown, since when Jane had a date and with whom? However, he continued scanning her figure. She hadn't phoned Lestrade, new toothbrush and had cheap coffee for breakfast early that day.

So Sherlock knew he didn't have a problem. Irene Adler was impossible to read.

"D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" asked Irene, after several minutes of silence. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?"

Irene smirked. "No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself."

Jane's eyes widened when she looked how Sherlock unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and Irene leaned forward, loosening her folded arms on her naked chest, giving Sherlock a good view of her breasts.

"Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too," said Irene, looking at Jane with a grin.

"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all."

"Why? Are you jealous? Is your wife jealous, Mr Holmes?"

"She's not my wife," said Sherlock as he stood up and handed Irene his own coat. For a moment, he got close to Jane, but she stepped back and looked away.

"Look at the sadness in her face," said Irene, clearly laughing at Jane, then she turned to Sherlock and took his coat. "You're blushing."

"I'm not -"

"Yes you are," said Jane, cutting Sherlock off.

"Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me, I need to know, how was it done?"

"What?"

"The hiker with the bashed-in the head. How was he killed?"

Irene was taking off her shoes when Jane placed the bowl with water and the napkin on the small table.

"That's not why I'm here."

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway."

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" asked Jane, a bit angrily and confused.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes. I like detective stories. And detectives. Brainy's the new sexy," said Irene suggestively, looking at Sherlock.

"Positionofthecar -" tried to say Sherlock, when he turned and met Jane's hurt eyes on him. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know. Jane, go out. Let no-one in."

Jane did as she had been asked and didn't turn, but she felt Sherlock's worried gaze on her and Irene's mocking eyes too. That woman wanted Sherlock. And Jane had no doubt Sherlock liked her.

"Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart, and one car."

"Oh. I - I thought you were looking for the photos now."

"No, no. Looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass the men, a car, and nobody else," explained Sherlock as he looked at the mirror in front of him, like he did all the times when he was at some crime scene. "The driver's trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere. And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the the birds? Any moment now, something's gonna happen. What?"

Irene looked at him confused. "The hiker's going to die."

"No, that's the result. What's going to happen?"

"I don't understand."

"Oh well, try to."

"Why?" asked The Woman, a bit angrily.

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think. It's the new sexy."

"The car's going to backfire."

Sherlock nodded. "There's going to be a loud noise."

"So what?"

"Noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance..." Sherlock stopped when he heard the smoke alarm beeping from the hall outside the room. Jane was doing her part of the job burning something as they had agreed to using the Equerry's lighter.

Sherlock saw Irene's eyes worried eyes on the mirror hanging on the wall behind him and smiled. "Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities," said he as he touched the mantelpiece until he felt a button and the mirror slided upwards, revealing a small wall safe behind it. "Really hope you don't have a baby in here. All right, Jane, you can turn it off now."

The young detective felt the smoking alarm beeping again. "Jane, turn it off now!"

* * *

Outside, Jane was trying to thwack the end of the magazine she used to make the smoke alarm beep when she saw three men running down the stairs and all of them were holding guns and aiming at her.

* * *

"Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used, that's quite clearly the three, but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday, no disrespect, but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so -"

Irene smiled at him. "I'd tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have." Sherlock frowned, and Irene smirked. "Think."

Then, the group of three men got in, abruptly. One of them had Jane by the collar of her shirt and made her kneel on the floor and at the same time another man pointed at Irene and made her kneel on the floor next to Jane. The other man, who seemed to be the leader pointed at Sherlock with his gun. "Hands behind your head."

"Sherlock..." murmured Jane.

Sherlock lifted his hands. "Don't you want me on the floor too?"

"No, I want you to open the safe."

"American judging by the accent. Why would you care?" asked Sherlock, glancing back at Irene.

"The safe, now."

"I don't know the code."

"We've been listening. She said she told you," said the American man.

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't."

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes."

Jane clenched her teeth. "For God's sake! She's the one who knows the code. Ask her!"

It was clear Jane couldn't take it anymore. She was being held against her will on the floor, close to the woman she didn't like and there was a gun over her head. If Sherlock didn't give them the code she knew they were going to shoot.

And Jane didn't want to die.

She though about Hamish, and little tears escaped from her eyes.

"Shut up. One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship," said the leader of the group, looking at Sherlock. "Mr. Archer, at the count of three, shoot Jane Watson."

"What?"

"I don't have the code," insisted Sherlock.

Jane raised her gaze and looked at Sherlock. The young detective met her wet eyes, but he didn't say a word. He didn't even give Jane a clue of what was going to happen.

"One."

"I don't know the code."

"Two."

"She didn't tell me. I don't know it!"

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now."

Sherlock looked at Irene and nodded.

"Three!"

"Stop!"

For those three seconds, Jane imagined herself dying. And the only one in her thoughts was Hamish.


	51. Thoughtless

"No, stop!"

The leader gestured the other man to move the gun aside. Sherlock turned and looked at the safe. He was not entirely sure, his mind was working frantically, but he could work it out.

3-2-2-4-3-4.

The safe beeped, and it noisily unlocked. Jane looked how Irene smiled in satisfaction, almost proudly while she was letting the tears of fear run down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please."

Sherlock looked across Irene. Her green eyes were telling him something.

It was a trap.

Sherlock looked at Jane and nodded. "Vatican cameos!"

Jane threw herself top the floor while Sherlock pulled the door of the safe open and ducked down below the fireplace. Inside the safe, a gun and a trap pulled the trigger, and the man who was threatening Jane was shot in the chest. Sherlock took advantage of this and took the leader's gun, Irene hit the other man with her elbow and took the dropped gun.

At this point, the leader was lying on the floor unconscious, the man behind Jane was dead and the other man left was on his knees in front of Irene, who was holding a gun and pointing at him.

"Do you mind?"

Irene smiled. "Not at all." And slapped the man using the gun, making him fall to the floor unconscious.

Jane was still on the floor and silent tears were falling down her eyes. She raised her gaze to meet Irene's smiling face and Sherlock's eyes on her.

"Thank you. You were very observant. I'm flattered."

"Don't be."

Jane stood up and looked around. She felt dizzy and slightly sick. She noted Sherlock was ignoring her, at least ignoring her presence, as he took something from inside the safe and headed outside. She could hear gunshots and she knew it was Sherlock's way to call the police.

"Check the rest of the house. See how they got it would you, dear?" said Irene to Jane as she smiled and left, following Sherlock's upstairs.

Once alone in her room, Irene held out her hand, but Sherlock ignored her. "That's mine."

"All the photographs are here, I presume."

"I have copies, of course."

"No, you don't. You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."

"Who said I'm selling?" asked Irene with a smile, still waiting for Sherlock to give her phone back.

"Well, why would  _they_  be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs."

"That camera phone is my life, Mr Holmes. I'd die before I let you take it. It's my protection."

"It was."

Still, there wasn't any signs of Jane, and Sherlock was checking on the bathroom when Irene took a needle from her drawers. She hide it behind her back and caressed Sherlock's back, making him turn. "You're very calm."

"Your booby trap did just killed a man."

"He would have killed me," said Irene seductively, taking Sherlock's hand. "It was self defence in advance."

She stabbed him with a syringe into his right arm. Sherlock gasped form air, he felt himself breathless as he fell to the floor.

"What... what is that?"

Irene slapped him hard across the face and held out her hand again. "Give it to me. Now. Give it to me."

Sherlock felt himself sick, dizzy. He felt paranoic, he felt the room closing over him, and he felt himself high again. It was like when he used to inject himself. The sensation was good, but he felt breathless. "No."

Irene took a riding crop and hit him once. "Give it to me."

"No."

"For goodness' sake," hissed The Woman as she hit Sherlock several times with her riding crop. "Drop it!"

Sherlock struggled, trying to breath. "No."

"Drop," a hit. "it," a hit. "NOW!"

After hitting him two more times, Sherlock dropped the phone and Irene took it. "Thank you, dear. Now tell that that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They're not for blackmail, just for insurance. Besides, I might want to see her again."

Sherlock tried to get up, but Irene caressed his cheeks using the riding crop. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no. It's been a pleasure. Don't spoil it. This is how I want you to remember me, the woman who  _beat_  you. Goodnight, Mister Sherlock Holmes."

Jane got inside the room and found Sherlock lying on the floor, struggling himself to breath and Irene over him. "What... what did you do to him?"

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse."

Jane found the syringe on the floor and those old fears were back again. Irene had drugged Sherlock. "What's this? What have you given to him?" Jane looked at Sherlock's face. "Sherlock?"

"He'll be fine."

"Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?"

"You know what?" asked Irene, smoothly. "He really liked to look."

"What are you talking about?"

"Shall I tell her, Sherlock?"

"What are you talking about?" hissed Jane, angrily.

"The key code to my safe."

"What was it?"

"My measurements."

* * *

Sherlock felt a pair of lips on his, and when he tried to open his eyes, he saw Irene sitting next to him on his bed. "I..."

"Hush, It's okay. I'm only returning your coat."

Again, Sherlock felt a pair of lips on his and he sat up on his bed, realising there was no one.

"Jane?"

Nothing.

"Jane!"

Jane was in the sitting room, on her armchair, with a very asleep Hamish in her arms. She placed him on his bed upstairs and went to Sherlock's room. "You okay?"

"How did I get here?"

Sherlock was dizzy and completely out of his senses, he even fell to the floor trying to get off the bed.

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should say, Lestrade recorded you with his phone. Even Hamish laughed," said Jane, jokingly while helping him to get on his bed.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"The woman.  _The woman_."

"Who?

"Irene Adler!" hissed Sherlock exasperated.

Jane covered him with his duvet. "She got away."

"She was here."

"Sherlock -"

"She kissed me, she was here!"

Jane knew Sherlock was still under the effects of that drug. He wasn't making any sense, but the mention of Irene Adler, kissing him, was enough to make Jane feel sad.

It hurt.

"You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."

"Of course I'll be fine," snapped Sherlock, turning to his side, giving his back to Jane. "I am fine."

"Yes you are. I'll sleep on the sitting room if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

Jane bit her lip. But she didn't let the tears fall down. "You're right. I'll go then. If you need anything call Mrs Hudson."

Jane left Sherlock's room slamming the door behind her back. Sherlock heard her going downstairs, when an orgasmic female moan made him turn. His coat was hanging behind his door.

With a lot of effort, Sherlock managed to get off his bed and took his coat, whwre he found his phone inside his pocket.

_**Till next time, Mr Holmes.** _

* * *

_"_ You look beautiful."

Jane smiled at Bill. "I need a drink."

"What happened today? You missed the Anatomy class."

"Had a bad day. Sherlock needed my help -"

"Let's not talk about him," said Bill as he handed Jane a pint. "tomorrow's Saturday. Why don't we go to the park, you, Hamish and me? It's been a while since we last been there."

Jane smiled. She used to go to the park with Hamish and Bill. While her son played with other children, they read and revised together. They used to sit under a tree, have a nice lunch together.

She immediately remembered she had no reason to stay at Baker Street. Why? Sherlock didn't need her anymore. He found his match, a woman pretty enough who could give Sherlock what he wanted.

And what she couldn't give him.

"You're right."

"Jane, are you okay? You don't look good," asked Bill, worriedly.

"I'm a mess, I know. I've put on weight -"

"No, no. That's not what I meant," said Bill as he let a hand caress Jane's cheek. "You're so beautiful."

Their faces were inches apart.

And they lips met in a very deep kiss.

* * *

The following morning, Sherlock was reading the papers and having breakfast with Hamish and Mrs Hudson was on the kitchen cleaning and preparing more food when Jane appeared. She looked very sleepy as she yawned and stretched her arms, sitting on the head of the table in the sitting room, between Hamish who was on his high chair and Sherlock.

"Two pints of beer?"

Jane didn't say anything.

But Sherlock's eyes widened when he realised it. Jane had a date with Bill Murray. They didn't share a night out with friends. It was only the two of them, alone.

And they kissed.

Jane's tired eyes, the pink shade on her cheeks, she was still wearing the same clothes from last night; tight jeans and a loose shirt with some buttons undone. There was a fading purple mark on her neck.

No.

No, no, no.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

Before Sherlock could say something, Mycroft stepped in the room. He was carrying his umbrella, as always, and a very worried look on his face.

"Mrs Hudson, Jane, good morning."

"My-mycrow!"

Jane smiled. "It's 'Mycroft'."

"Mycroft! Mycroft! Mycroft!"

"What a lovely boy."

"Why does he have to pronounce his name?" asked Sherlock, clearly jealous.

"What happened to the photographs?" asked Mycroft.

"The photographs are perfectly safe."

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker?"

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants... protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied."

Sherlock's lips curled. "She'd applaud your choice of words. You see how this works, that camera phone is her 'get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

Jane sipped more of her coffee and nodded, bitterly.

Hamish finished his milk. Jane was helping him off his high chair when they heard an orgasmic female moan. Jane frowned and placed Hamish in the play pen. "What was that?"

"Text," replied Sherlock, nonchalantly, still looking at the newspapers.

"But what was that noise?"

Sherlock didn't say a word. He got up and walked past Mycroft and picked his phone from the mantelpiece.

_**Good morning, Mr Holmes** _

"You knew there were people after her, before you sent Jane and I there? CIA trained killers," said Sherlock, going back to his chair and ignoring Jane's question.

Mrs Hudson returned from the kitchen with a plate with more toasts and coffee. "A disgrace, sending them both there into danger. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh, shut up Mrs Hudson -"

"MYCROFT!"

Both Jane and Sherlock hissed, both angry at Mycroft. Even Hamish turned and pointed at the tall man with the umbrella. "Mycroft-ft rude!"

Jane laughed a bit and Sherlock curled his lips upwards, but hid his smile behind the newspapers in his hands.

"Apologies."

"Thank you. Jane, I prepared you something for lunch."

"Thanks Mrs -"

Another orgasmic female moan. But Jane ignored it. She went upstairs leaving the Holmes brothers alone in the sitting room with Hamish, while Mrs Hudson made her way downstairs.

**_Feeling better?_ **

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see -"

"Stay away from her, Sherlock," said Mycroft, warningly. "If you want to get the life you once had, stay away from her before this  _infatuation_  get worse."

"Infatuation? What are you talking about?"

Mycroft's phone went off and he walked outside to take the call, when Jane returned from her room wearing different clothes. She was wearing narrow blue jeans, a blue stripped jumper and flat shoes. She was carrying the bag Sherlock knew she always carried with her every time she went out with Hamish. And she also had some clothes for Hamish.

"Why does your phone make that noise?"

"What noise?"

"You know what noise," said Jane as she helped Hamish with his clothes.

"It's a text alert. It means I've got a text."

Another orgasmic female moan.

**_I'm fine since you didn't ask_ **

Sherlock put his phone down and continued reading the newspapers.

"I wonder who recorded that noise, got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" asked Jane.

Sherlock hid himself behind the newspapers. "I'll leave it to your deductions."

"I'm not stupid, you know."

"Jane -"

Mycroft was back in the room when he finished his phone call. Sherlock eyed him, suspiciously. "What else does she have? The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of photographs involving someone from the royalty." Mycroft didn't say a word. "Much more, doesn't she? Something big is coming isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this."

"Oh, will I?"

Mycroft smiled art him. "Yes, Sherlock, you will. Believe me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

"Do give her my love," snapped Sherlock, taking his violin and giving his back to Mycroft who was leaving, not before allowing himself to catch Hamish' eyes and let a hand ran over the little kid's wild fair curls.

Jane was still dressing Hamish when she gave Sherlock a last look. The young detective as deeply lost in his violin to notice her gaze on him, her curios, still broken and sad eyes on him.

Even when Sherlock made everyone believe he did not remember a thing that had happened to him at Irene Adler's house, it was all the opposite in fact. He remember everything, every thing he had seen, heard, done. Sherlock remembered Jane's panicked look when the Americans aimed their guns at her and threatened to kill her if he didn't give them the key code to The Woman's safe. And all the things he said. Sherlock remembered Irene's red lips on his, then Jane's soft hands around his waist, trying to put him on bed and then covering his body with his duvet.

Sherlock even remembered telling Jane he didn't need her.

It was a lie. Sherlock needed Jane like air. He needed her to live, as the past almost three years in which they were apart because of his stupidity and drugs, Sherlock returned to England with one main purpose and that purpose was to get Jane back to him. To be Hamish' father, as he had been when he was merely a couple of cells, when he was inside Jane's womb. Sherlock had been Hamish' father since the beginning and he wanted to keep being a father. He wanted to hold Hamish in his arms, kiss his cheek, his forehead, take his hands, do all the things normal fathers do. And he wanted to tell Hamish he was his 'daddy', as Hamish liked to say, and to be a family.

But every time Sherlock tried, something happened, and then Sherlock and Jane were far apart again, back to the start. Back to the start in which they didn't pronounce a word unless it was required and needed.

"Hi."

Sherlock turned in his place in front of the window and looked at Bill Murray. The man was standing on the doorway, looking at Jane and Hamish with a pathetic smile on his face. And flowers on his hands.

"Hello Bill, we're ready," said Jane as she let Hamish go and say hi to Bill.

Bill knelt and took Hamish in is arms. The little boy kissed his cheek and placed both of his tiny and short arms around the man's neck, possessively. Sherlock eyed the situation, and he didn't like it. Not a bit. He didn't like how Hamish seemed to prefer Bill over anyone, how Bill talked to him, as he owned the right to talk to him the way he was doing it - as if he were his father!

"Are you ready, darling?" said he, handing Jane the flowers.

_Darling._

Bill called Jane 'darling'.

Jane only nodded, took the flowers and thanked Bill with a kiss on his cheek and placed them on a vase in the kitchen. Then, she took her blue bag, the one filled with some toys, a jacket for Hamish and some sandwiches Sherlock had seen Mrs Hudson preparing before.

"C'mon Hamish! We're going to the park," said Jane, taking her son's hand.

But the little boy turned and pointed at Sherlock. "Sher-Sherwock!"

"No, Hamish. Sherlock's not coming."

That's all Jane said and the three of them left.

And Sherlock looked at them from the window, walking down the road, Hamish a few steps ahead of them, and Jane's arm entwined with Bill's.

* * *

"This is not right, Bill."

The two of them, Jane and Bill, were sitting together under a big tree, eating some sandwiches Mrs Hudson made and watching how Hamish played with some kids a few steps from them. The day was a bit cold, but sunny. Christmas was coming soon, and there were already a few leafs covering the green grass of the park.

The noise made by the children, a mixture between their laughter, their legs running from one place to another, that was the sound that made Jane felt secure. But Bill's hand on hers was far from being right. The kiss they had the night before, that hungry kiss, that was not right.

It was all wrong.

"What d'you mean?"

"This," said Jane, worriedly. "We're friends."

"Jane, I only want to make you happy."

"I know, but..."

"It's Sherlock, isn't it?"

Jane looked away, not being able to meet Bill's eyes.

"You still love him."

"Bill -"

"You told me all the things he did. I don't understand what you're doing with him -"

"We're not together," said Jane, cutting him off.

"I saw you kissing."

After a long pause in which neither of them said a word, Jane turned and looked into Bill's eyes. "I don't know what I feel. I... when I look at him with Hamish, helping him with his speech, teaching him new words or watching telly I just - I feel like we are a family. He claims he needs me, that he loves me and I believe him. But then he thinks differently. I know he does. And I know you want more than this, but you deserve better."

"I want you, Jane," said Bill, as he caressed Jane's cheek and wiped the tear falling down her eye.

"Do you understand I can't love you - I don't know if I'd be able to love you as you want me to."

"Let me fight for your love, Jane. Please, give me a chance."

Jane let Bill kiss her. It was their second kiss, and it felt far from right. Bill's lips were sweet and warm, but they did not taste like Sherlock's. Every time Sherlock had kissed Jane, she felt something within her chest, her heart pounded hard. But when Jane kissed Bill, she didn't felt the same.

Bill was kissing Jane and she was kissing him back.

And neither of them saw Sherlock standing a few feet away.


	52. Caring is Not an Advantage

Two months have passed and it was Christmas eve. Mrs Hudson was sitting on Jane's armchair with Hamish on her lap. Both were looking at Sherlock and smiling at him. The young detective was close to the window, in the sitting room, playing a cheerful song in his violin for Hamish, who was smiling and clapping his hands together endlessly, looking utterly excited.

In the kitchen was Jane and Lestrade preparing some food when the doorbell rang.

"Lovely!"

"Sher-lock! Sherlock!" said Hamish, cheerfully as he extended his arms, a clear sign he wanted Sherlock to take him in his arms.

Sherlock took Hamish in his arms and smiled at him and turned to the tree. While Hamish was pointing at the angel at the top, Sherlock remembered his first Christmas there, with Jane, three years ago, when she was pregnant and he was, at least that day, not high on cocaine.

When it was almost midnight both stood together close by the tree. Sherlock remembered himself embracing Jane and the same time she buried her face into his chest. Sherlock ran a hand to her then long hair and closed his eyes. When the bells of the church close to Baker Street let them know it was midnight, and therefore Christmas, Jane kissed him.

_"Merry Christmas, Sherlock. I know it's the first of many more with you and our son."_

_"Merry Christmas, Jane."_

_"I love you, Sherlock. I love you so much."_

Sherlock remembered himself placing a hand over her pregnant belly, and feeling Hamish kicking inside her.

_"You can't imagine how much I love you, Jane."_

_"Promise me we'll always be together."_

_"We will always be together."_

Sherlock went back to real life when he heard Bill Murray and Molly Hooper's voices.

Molly was smiling shyly, carrying bags with presents and wearing a long coat. "Hello, everyone!"

Everyone greeted them both, Molly and Bill. Everyone but Sherlock.

Opposite Molly, Bill was not smiling pathetically. He handed Jane a bag with presents and kissed her on the cheek, softly and slowly. This made Sherlock look away.  _"_ Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other. How wonderful."

"Wow Molly, you look wonderful tonight!" said Jane when Molly took her coat off. She was wearing a revealing short dark dress and red lipstick on her lips.

Since they met again after those past three years, and after Molly had seen Jane and Sherlock were not an item and that they were only flatmates, she flirted - or tried to - catch Sherlock's attention. Every time Sherlock visited the mortuary or used a lab room at Bart's, Molly was behind Sherlock offering him coffee or asking him if he needed something.

"Have a seat," said Jane as he placed a chair for Molly.

Lestrade and Bill were discussing something that looked like politics when Sherlock opened his laptop and looked at Jane's blog. There was something wrong, the counting on her blog had been one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five for more than a month. "Jane."

"Mmm?"

"The counter on your blog, still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."

"Ah yes, faulty," replied Jane, not really caring about it.

Soon she went to the kitchen and joined Bill, leaving Sherlock alone when Lestrade sat between him and Molly, handing a drink to the latter.

"Thank you. I wasn't expecting to see you, Mr Lestrade. Jane told me you were gonna be in Dorset with your girlfriend."

Lestrade faked a smile. "Ah yes, but she'll be spending Christmas with her parents and -"

"No, she's sleeping with a P.E teacher," said Sherlock, not looking up from his computer.

Molly and Lestrade exchanged an awkward look. "And you Jane, plans for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Bill and I -"

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him," interrupted Sherlock.

"Sorry, what?"

"You're seeing him tonight, and giving him a gift."

"Sherlock -" said Jane, tried to make him stop before he could have ever started.

Bill grabbed a beer and tried to give it to Sherlock. "Mate, why don't you have a drink."

Even Bill knew what Sherlock was capable to say. He'd never experienced Sherlock's deductions, but Jane had told him. And he knew Molly. And Bill also knew Molly had a huge crush on Sherlock.

"I don't want a drink,  _mate_ ," said Sherlock, toughly, remarking the word 'mate', and then he turned to Molly. "Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. It's for someone special, then. The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has love on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts -"

Sherlock stopped when he realised everyone was quiet, Molly was about to cry and the present was for him.

_**Dearest Sherlock** _   
_**Love Molly xxx** _

"You always said such horrible things. Every time. Always.  _Always_ ," said Molly, clearly hurt.

 _"_ I am sorry. Forgive me," said Sherlock as he bent his head and kissed Molly on her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

Sherlock's phone went off. Again, an orgasmic female moan.

"That wasn't me!"

"No, it was me."

"Really?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "My phone."

"Fifty-seven," murmured Jane under her breath.

"Sorry, what?" asked Sherlock.

"Nothing."

**_Mantelpiece_ **

Sherlock picked up a red paper wrapped box, tied with a black rope. He immediately remembered Irene's lips on his. "Excuse me."

Once inside his room, Sherlock opened the box. It was Irene's camera phone, the one she told him was her protection. Her own life. Sherlock immediately dialled Mycroft's number. "I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight."

_"We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters."_

"No, I mean you're going to find her dead."

Sherlock took his coat and left and noted that every one looked at him asking, wondering where and why was he leaving. Everyone but Jane, who looked quite entertained sitting next, and very close, to Bill Murray.

* * *

"You didn't need to come."

"It's okay. Everyone's busy with Christmas. And I'm a student, we're not often called to work as professionals, are we?" said Molly with a smile, but then she soon noted neither of the Holmes brothers were smiling. "The face is a bit, sort of, bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult."

"Show me the rest," said Sherlock, as Molly only showed them the face of the corpse.

Molly did as she had been asked her to. She removed the sheet of the body and looked how Sherlock scanned the naked corpse and turned to leave. "That's her."

Both Holmes left, leaving Molly confused, wondering how Sherlock did recognise the body from not her face.

Outside, both Sherlock and Mycroft were standing side by side. "Just this one. The doctors told you to stay away from cigarettes," said Mycroft as he handed Sherlock one cigarette and a lighter. "How did you know she was dead?"

"She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up."

"Where is this item now?"

Sherlock looked at the family of three people a few feet from them. They were all sobbing, looking helpless, sad. They were clearly mourning the death of someone close to them. "Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"

"You do care," whispered Mycroft. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. And don't mourn her. You barely knew her."

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft," said Sherlock, as he walked away from Mycroft.

And the older brother smiled. "And happy New Year."

* * *

Jane had just finished putting Hamish on his bed when her phone went off. It was Mycroft.

_"He's on his way. Have you found anything?"_

"No. He's clean, Mycroft."

_"You have to stay with him, Jane."_

"I've got plans," replied Jane, looking at Bill who was in the kitchen, talking to Lestrade.

_"No."_

When Mycroft hung up, Jane knew she had no choice.

Jane sat next to Bill on the sofa, soon afterwards Lestrade left. "I'm sorry."

Bill smiled bitterly. "It's okay," said he a he placed a hand around her waist.

When Sherlock opened the door, he saw Mrs Hudson getting into her own rooms. As Sherlock walked the stairs, he heard Bill and Jane's voice.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't say a word, he only walked past them, went to his room and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Sherlock fell heavily on his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to process the events of the night. Hamish' smiling face when he played the violin for him, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and Molly... and Bill Murray and Jane.

Bill and Jane. They had been together for two months now, and as Jane had been counting the times he got a text, Sherlock counted the days Jane had been holding Bill's hand and kissing his lips.

The young detective couldn't believe it yet. The day he saw them kissing on the park only confirmed what he had deduced early that day when he saw that mark on Jane's neck. After that day, Jane didn't talk to him, at least no more than necessary. She allowed him to be with Hamish when he was not away tracking down Irene Adler's steps.

It hurt Sherlock. Damn, it made him feel jealous. Every time Sherlock looked at Jane, he could tell how many kisses they had, where Bill's hand had been, everything. Sherlock even deduced Jane hadn't had sex with him.

Yet.

Then why was Jane with him? Because Sherlock knew she didn't love him. Jane was not in love with Bill Murray. Then why was she holding his hand, kissing his lips and hugging him? And Bill knew it. Bill knew Jane didn't love him, but then he was there on Christmas eve, sitting very close to her, with an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek because still no one knew they were dating.

No one but Sherlock.

When Sherlock and Jane kissed, he felt love. Sherlock felt warmness, love, caring. Jane cared. He cared. Both were still in love. Neither of them fell out of love in those three years they had been apart. Sherlock knew Jane still loved him, so he was dying to know why she was with Bill.

Sherlock thought maybe he deserved this pain.

For all the things he had done.

* * *

The following morning, Sherlock woke up and found Jane and Hamish having breakfast together in the kitchen. As soon as he appeared in the room, Hamish ran to his arms and handed him a poorly blue wrapped present.

"Merry Chris-Christmas Sherlock!"

Sherlock let Hamish kiss his cheek and sat next to him. Jane was focused on her tea, and she barely looked at him.

When Sherlock opened the present, he found a drawing - Hamish' drawing - and a small dark bouncing ball. It was clear Hamish wanted to give him something, but instead of asking Jane, he drawn something for him and wrapped it with one of his little bouncing balls.

"Thank you, Hamish. Have you opened your presents?"

Hamish nodded. "Got-got a jumper and a ball, lo-lo-look!"

Sherlock went to the sitting room with Hamish where the little boy showed the detective his presents. It was clear the jumper and the soccer ball were presents from Jane. But there was a middle sized green box behind the tree.

"This is for you," said Sherlock as he handed Hamish the box.

Hamish immediately tore the paper apart, revealing a jigsaw puzzle. "Mu-mummy! Sher-lock got me a new p-p-puzzle!"

"You didn't need to."

Sherlock looked at Hamish, who was happily playing with his new puzzle on the sitting room's floor. He noted how every now and then Hamish stopped playing with the pieces to press a hand to her right ear and check he had his hearing aid on. This made Sherlock realise it was his second Christmas with Jane and his first one with Hamish in his life. Years ago, when they were still together and Jane was pregnant, expecting Hamish, Sherlock dreamt about the future Christmases he would have in Jane and Hamish' company, maybe with another child on the way. Sherlock wanted to have more children, he wanted them both, Jane and himself, have a big family, and be happy.

All the Christmases he imagined they would have were nothing like the one they were sharing that day. In his dreams, Jane and Hamish would be with him, Hamish sitting on his lap, playing with him, maybe trying to play his own violin, Jane kissing him, telling him how much she loved him... but reality was different. Completely different. Hamish was not with him, neither was calling him 'daddy' as he always thought he would and Jane was not saying she loved him. Jane was waiting to go out with another man.

And it hurt.

"It used to be mine when I was his age. This is for you," said Sherlock, giving Jane a small velvet dark box.

"I can't take it."

"You haven't even opened it yet."

Jane tried to hand it back, but Sherlock refused to take it. "Sherlock, please."

"It's yours."

When Jane opened the box, she found a small, thin, silver ring. It was the very same ring Jane always had, it had been a present from his father many years ago. Captain Watson gave it to Jane when he first left to Iraq.

"I thought I had lost it."

"I took it before going to the hospital when...," Sherlock cleared his throat, and Jane knew he was talking about the day he was high, and he begged Jane to go back to him as he aimed a gun to his temple. "I kept it all those years while I was in rehab. It remind me of you. You were wearing it the day we met."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I took it. But I needed something to remember you. And to get clean and come back to you and Hamish," said Sherlock.

Jane was about to put on the ring on when Sherlock took it off her hands. He took Jane's hand as the same way he did when they got married years ago. Sherlock took Jane's left hand and put the ring on. As soon as they eyes met, their faces where inches apart when Jane's phone went off, making them step back.


	53. Look at Us Both

New Year's day have passed quietly. That day, everyone were at Baker Street, drinking, eating Mrs. Hudson's food and having a good time. At least, to Sherlock, it was more private since Lestrade and Bill were not there because both of them decided to spend the first day of the year with their respective families. But not even Sherlock could stop Bill calling Jane first thing in the morning.

Jane had been quiet that day while Sherlock spent most of the day with Hamish, helping him to solve the puzzle he had given to him for Christmas, watching some cartoons and reading him his favourite book.

* * *

It was Sherlock's birthday. Jane woke up early in the morning and took Hamish with her downstairs. The little boy was carrying a middle sized package, red paper wrapped with a green bow at the top of it and a drawing.

"Happy Bir-birthday Sherwock!"

Sherlock was playing a very sad tune with his violin. He didn't mind Mrs Hudson tidying up behind him, but as soon as he heard Hamish' voice calling him, he turned and his eyes lit up.

Hamish plated a kiss on his cheek and handed him his present. Sherlock sat on his chair with Hamish on his lap and opened the present, not giving his mind a second to deduce what it was. He wanted to be surprised.

And he was.

Hamish gave to him a blue scarf. And it looked exactly like the one Jane had given to him three years ago.

"Mummy said you-you like blue scarf!"

Sherlock nodded. "It's like the one you gave me for my birthday."

"Yes," said Jane, taking her bag, getting herself ready to go to class. "It's getting cold and you needed one."

"Thank you."

"Composing?" asked Jane, changing the subject as he handed Hamish his milk and cookies.

"Helps me to think. The counter on your blog... it's still one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five," said Sherlock, pointing at his computer screen with the bow of his violin.

"It's faulty."

"Faulty or..." Sherlock took the camera phone from inside his pocket and pulled up the security code.

**_I AM 1895LOCKED_ **

**_WRONG PASSCODE_ **

**_3 ATTEMPTS REMAINING._ **

Sherlock turned to face the window and continued playing the sad tune again.

"Right. Hamish, promise me you'll behave, okay?"

As Hamish had a light cold, Jane let him stay at home under Mrs. Hudson's watchful eye. The little boy promised his mummy he was going to be a good boy and Jane left.

Once outside, Jane met a woman who seemed to know her name. "Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Hello," said the strange woman in dark clothes, gesturing Jane to get into the dark car next to her. "Plans for today?"

"I've got classes to attend to."

"Mr. Holmes would like to talk to you. Please, get in the car."

* * *

Jane frowned at the location. It was a very old, deserted factory. The car in which they had been driven there stopped and the woman in dark clothes led Jane to the second floor, which was empty.

"You could just phone me. Your brother doesn't follow me everywhere. He's writing sad music, doesn't eat, and he barely talks - only to correct Hamish. That's all," said Jane to no one, taking for granted she was to meet Mycroft Holmes. "I'd say he's _heartbroken_ , but I'm not sure -"

"Hello, Jane."

It was Irene Adler.

Jane caught her breath. "Tell him you're alive."

" _He_ 'd come after  _me_. Is that what _you_  want?" asked Irene, mockingly smiling.

"I'll come after you if you don't tell him you're alive."

Now Irene was curious. "Why would you want me to tell him I'm alive?"

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you. He recognised you."

"I needed to disappear."

"Then how come I can see you, even when I don't want to?"

Irene nodded. "Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

"No," snapped Jane.

"It's for his own safety. You'd never put the life of your husband in danger would you?" asked Irene, testing Jane.

Jane shook her head. "He's not my husband. Tell him you're alive."

"I can't."

"I'll tell him and I still won't help you," said Jane and turned, walking away.

"What do I say?"

Jane turned, furiously, and pointed at her with a finger. "What do you normally say? You've texted him a lot."

The Woman took her phone and started typing. "The usual stuff, you know."

"There's no usual with Sherlock."

"'Good morning', 'I like you', 'Let's have dinner', 'You look sexy on the news. Let's have dinner'. He replied: 'I'm not hungry'. I insisted. But then, he replied the same: 'I'm not hungry'"

Jane looked startled. "You  _flirted_  with Sherlock?"

"At him. He never replies."

"How -? He would have replied to you."

"Would he? That makes me special?" asked Irene with a grin.

"I don't know."

"Are you jealous?"

Jane shook her head, determined. "We're not a couple."

"He hurt you, didn't he?"

"That's not your business," replied Jane, angrily, holding tears.

Irene smiled. "You're dying to have him. You know you do. But you're afraid."

"No. I am not."

"'I'm not dead. Let's have dinner'. Happy now?" asked Irene, sending a text.

"I don't want him anymore. He's yours."

"I  _do_ want him. Look at us both."

Irene was laughing mockingly at Jane when they heard an orgasmic female moan. It was Sherlock's phone. Jane tried to follow the sound, but she stopped. She knew there was no need for her to go behind Sherlock.

After all, she had said the truth.

* * *

Sherlock needn't to hear it twice. Jane said the truth. She was with another man now. And Sherlock knew he was nothing to her. Not even her friend.

It hurt.

It hurt because the only thing he wanted was having Jane's love back again. He wanted to be the one who filler her heart, he wanted to be the reason why Jane's heart beat every day. He wanted to kiss her, take her hand, be the reason of her life and just be with her. Sherlock wanted to marry her again to prove everyone Jane was his, only his, that he loved her and hat she loved him as well. Sherlock wanted to tell Hamish he had a daddy and that it was him. That he was sorry for hurting Jane and being the reason as to why Hamish had the health problems he had now.

Sherlock wanted to be part of them, be part of their little family, join the picture.

Sherlock wanted Hamish to call him daddy. He wanted Hamish to tell all his little friends his daddy was a detective and he wanted to teach Hamish more words, how to play the violin, how not to mix the wrong chemicals.

And after Jane had said she didn't want him anymore, Sherlock realised all the things he wanted were a mere dream. Because all the things he had done, the drugs, the violence, everything had taken Jane and Hamish away from him.

Forever.

But when Sherlock arrived at Baker Street, he found the door had been violently opened. He saw Hamish's toys all spread over the stairs, and there were marks of nails on the wallpapers.

As soon as Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson trying to ask for help and Hamish helplessly crying, his expression changed from deductive to murderous.

Sherlock opened the door of the flat and he found three men inside. Mrs. Hudson was sitting on one of the dinning chairs facing the door. Behind her was the American man who threatened Sherlock back at Irene Adler's house. In front of them, a man had Hamish tied to his high chair, with a gun over his head. The little boy was crying and sobbing as he could barely understand what was happening. Sherlock looked Hamish panicked face as he pressed his little hand to his right hear and couldn't find his hearing aid.

A third man was standing by the windows, aiming his gun at Sherlock.

Immediately, Sherlock knew he had to do something quickly, before Hamish had a seizure or even worst, something wrong happened to his heart. Hamish was a very fragile little boy, and Sherlock knew things like this, scary things for an almost three year old child could be dangerous.

"Sherlock!" said Mrs. Hudson, with tears on her eyes.

Sherlock took Hamish' hearing aid from the floor, which was broken, and tried to help Hamish off the chair, but the man threatening Hamish aimed his gun at him. "Stay away or I kill the brat."

"Da-da-ddy! daddy!" cried Hamish.

Even being under pressure, having three men aiming their guns not only at him, but also at his landlady and his son, Sherlock heard Hamish calling him daddy and treasured that word very deep inside his heart.

The man aiming at Hamish grabbed him by his arm, a futile attempt to make him stop crying. But it only made Hamish sob louder. "Daddy! Da-ddy! Daddy!"

Sherlock clenched his teeth. He couldn't bear watching Hamish crying and being so upset. "Keep your hands off  _my_  son right now if you don't want to die."

"Leave it," said the leader.

The man did as he had been told and Sherlock took Hamish in his arms. He then placed him on his play pen in the kitchen and caressed the boy's soft curls. Sherlock noted he had finger marks on his cheek. They had slapped him trying to make his crying stop. "Nothing will happen to you, okay? Daddy is here," whispered Sherlock, softly, as he pressed a kiss to Hamish' forehead.

Hamish nodded, but he continued crying.

"I believe you have something we want, Mr. Holmes."

"Then why didn't you ask for it?" asked Sherlock, getting close to Mrs. Hudson and looking at the wound on her cheek. She had been hit too.

"You know what I'm asking for, don't you?"

"I believe I do."

"Sherlock, please, help us!" cried Mrs. Hudson.

"Get rid of your boys. I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room."

The man seemed to consider it for a moment. "Go and get into the car."

"And drive away," Sherlock completed. "Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work."

As soon as the men left, Sherlock held up his arms. "Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me."

"So you can shoot me?"

"I'm unarmed."

"Mind if I check?"

Sherlock smiled, sarcastically. "Oh, I insist."

When the American man walked past Mrs. Hudson and started patting Sherlock's clothes and coat looking for a gun, the young detective hit him with his elbow, hitting his face and breaking his nose. The man screamed as Sherlock turned and hit him with his own head, making their foreheads collide.

The man fell to the floor unconscious.

"You're okay now," said Sherlock to Mrs. Hudson. Then, he took Hamish in his arms and cuddled him. "Everything is okay, baby. Daddy got rid of the bad men."

Hamish was still sobbing. His face was a mess of tears, and he had a red mark on his face. Seeing this, Sherlock turned and looked at the unconscious man on his floor.

"Mrs. Hudson, take Hamish to my room and wait there. I will clean this mess."

* * *

Jane couldn't go to class that day. She knew she would not concentrate. Instead, she walked back to Baker Street, thinking what she had said, what Irene said, and about Sherlock.

Sherlock needed to know she couldn't go back to him. Many things had happened between them, and Jane felt as if she was never going to be able to forget all of it. But what did he want from her? He had Irene, who was far beautiful than her. Irene Adler was perfect, she was as clever as Sherlock was - she was his match. And Jane knew she could never compete against her.

But soon her thoughts vanished when she looked at the note attached underneath the knocker. Written on the note, by Sherlock's handwriting:

**_CRIME IN PROGRESS. PLEASE DISTURB_ **

Jane immediately ran the stairs and found Sherlock aiming a gun to the American man at Irene Adler's house. He was tied to one of their chairs, with his mouth covered with a piece of fabric, preventing him from screaming, and with a bleeding nose.

"What's going on? Where's Hamish? And Mrs. Hudson?"

"Mrs. Hudson and Hamish were attacked by the Americans. Go and check they're okay," explained Sherlock as he dialled Lestrade's number.

"Hamish? Oh my God, tell me he's okay!"

Sherlock nodded. "Go with him."

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

"Later. Now go and take Hamish and Mrs. Hudson downstairs."

As soon as Sherlock and the American were left alone, Lestrade answered Sherlock's call. "Lestrade. We've had a break-in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance. Oh, no, no, no, no, we're fine. No, it's the... it's the burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured. A few broken ribs, fractured skull... suspected punctured lung. He fell out of a window."

When Sherlock hung up, the American knew it was not good to mess with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

"And how many times did he fall out of the window?" asked Lestrade, suspiciously, looking how the ambulance pulled away from 221 Baker Street.

"I lost count."

"He could present charges, you know."

"He hurt my  _son_."

Lestrade didn't say anything to that.

Once inside, Sherlock found Jane inside Mrs Hudson's kitchen, pouring more tea for her and holding Hamish in his arms. The little boy was still scared, but at least he was not crying anymore.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her."

"No," said Mrs. Hudson.

"She's fine."

"No, she's not, Sherlock. She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."

Sherlock shook his head. "You're not a Doctor. And don't be absurd, Mrs. Hudson leaving Baker Street? England would fall!"

"All because some bloody camera phone? Where is it anyway?" asked Jane, angrily.

Mrs. Hudson took the phone from inside her shirt. "You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."

"Thank you."

"Go upstairs. Hamish needs to sleep and you look tired. I'll be fine."

* * *

"Mummy... scared!"

Jane kissed Hamish' forehead. "It's okay, Hamish. Sherlock got rid of the bad men now. Look, they are not here, are they? Now time to go to bed."

Hamish ran to Sherlock and clung his hands to the detective's legs. "Wanna sleep with daddy!"

Sherlock, who was standing close to the windows and had taken Hamish in his arms turned to face Jane and froze. The same happened to Jane, who was sitting on her armchair and looking at Hamish with widened eyes.

"Hamish, Sherlock's not your daddy. We talked about this, remember?" said Jane, softly.

"Hamish -"

Even Sherlock tried to intervene and explain, but Hamish buried his face into his chest. "But I wanna Sherwock to be my daddy!"

Jane took Hamish off Sherlock's arms. "Go to your room, Hamish."

"I wanna sleep with daddy!"

"Go to your room," repeated Jane.

Sherlock placed a hand over Jane's shoulder. "Jane -"

"Go to your room, Hamish," repeated Jane, using a very motherly but severe tone of voice and Hamish left, with a very sad look on his face.

"Let me explain."

Jane walked a few steps until she was close to Sherlock. "Did you tell him to call you that way?"

"No."

"How come he's calling you 'daddy'?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I don't know. The Americans were aiming a gun to his head and I tried to tell him to calm down, and he just said it. He was upset."

"Tell me truth. Because I've explained him he doesn't have a father. And he understood."

"Jane, I didn't tell him to call me daddy."

"Do you know what day is it today?" asked Jane, with tears in her eyes.

Sherlock nodded.

Of course Sherlock knew what day was it. It was not only his birthday but it was also the very same day, three years ago, when Jane found him snorting cocaine. And not only that. That very same day, but three years ago, Jane was in that same room with Sherlock, and she was crying as he shoved her against the wall.

And Sherlock did not only hit her against the wall, but he also slapped hard across the face, he pressed his body over hers, making her uterus collapse and making her bleed, a clear sign she was losing her baby.

With tears on their eyes, both remembered that night in which Sherlock tried to pull at her clothes and take her without her consent, even knowing she was in pain and losing her son.

And not being happy with that, Sherlock pushed Jane down the stairs.

And there's when everything started.

"I know."

When Sherlock tried to take as step forwards, trying to get closer to Jane, she walked a step backwards and let the tears fell down her cheeks.

"Do you remember what you did to me? To us? You bastard, you almost killed us!" hissed Jane, angrily. Her hands turned to fists and she tried to hit Sherlock's chest, but Sherlock was far taller and stronger than her and he took her wrists. "How could you?"

"Jane, I'm sorry -"

Both fell to the floor, on their knees. Sherlock embraced Jane and for a moment she didn't fight him. "Why, Sherlock? What did I do to you to deserve that? I tried to be good to you… I gave you everything, Sherlock. Everything."

Sherlock cried. He let the tears fall down his eyes as he felt Jane's on his chest. He knew this moment was to come sooner or later. When they first talked, when he visited her at her old flat, it surprised him how calm Jane was. Even though she made him enumerate all the things he had done that night, Jane was calm, and it looked like she had forgiven him.

But she had not.

"What did I do to you?" repeated Jane, sobbing. "What did I do to you to deserve your hatred?"

"I didn't hate you."

"Yes, you hated me. You still do! When you pushed me down the stairs you said you hated me!"

Sherlock kissed Jane's forehead. "I didn't hate you, I'm so sorry. Jane, I'm sorry."

"What did I do to you, Sherlock?" repeated Jane, between sobs.

"Nothing. You did nothing. It was the cocaine. I was so high... please, love. Forgive me. There is not a single day in which I don't regret what I did," begged Sherlock, crying as much as Jane was.

Jane didn't say anything. Sherlock got them to their feet and both sat together on the sofa. Both lay together on the sofa as Sherlock placed an arm around Jane's shoulder and she buried her face on Sherlock's chest. For several minutes, neither of them pronounced a word, not even a sound. The two of them just stood glued to each other, crying in each other's arms for a long time.

"I love you, Jane," whispered Sherlock.

Jane looked into his eyes and realised they were sincere. Jane noted Sherlock's words were genuinely honest.

And Jane knew he meant it.

The world and everything around them stopped when their lips met in a very deep, warm kiss. Both had their eyes closed, and Jane moved her hand upwards, cupping Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock's hands soon migrated to her waist, making the little space between them disappear.

Both fell asleep in each other's arms.

And Sherlock slept in peace. He'd finally conceived some sleep in peacefulness, feeling Jane's heartbeats against his chest and her soft fingers entwined with his.


	54. Beg for Mercy

Sherlock woke up feeling himself warm and very comfy. While opening his eyes, Sherlock looked at the ceiling above him and realised he was lying on the sofa in the sitting room, and there was someone else with him. Sherlock lowered his head and met Hamish' sleepy face glued to his chest.

He smiled.

Sherlock had a securing arm around Hamish, preventing him from falling off the edge of the sofa. Their bodies were covered with a thick duvet and the window close to them had its curtains still closed, not letting the sun go through.

From his place, Sherlock saw Jane in the kitchen, decorating a cake, quietly, trying not to make too much noise.

The detective wanted to go and talk to her but it meant he had to get off the sofa, and he was with Hamish. Sherlock didn't want to waste that chance he had been given to sleep next him, next to the small kid he loved as if he were his real son.

Hamish looked so peaceful in his sleep. Sherlock looked at his little face, his soft, fair curls and to his round cheeks. Hamish was a lovely and beautiful boy. He had Jane's blondish hair and her nose, and most of his features were Watson's. But apart from that, Sherlock realised Hamish looked a lot more like him that he really should.

And it was unbelievable.

He was not Hamish' biological father. Jane had conceived Hamish with  _him_ , with Sam Sawyer, but definitely not with Sherlock and yet he looked a lot like him.

Sherlock didn't mind. Sherlock never cared. Sam Sawyer left, and he left Jane alone, with a baby on the way, and Sherlock was there to pick up the pieces of Jane's broken heart. He fixed it and he had always been there as Hamish' father. It made Sherlock think he had hopes. He still had a chance to prove Jane he loved her, that he was not going to hurt them again and that he wanted to be Hamish' daddy.

Hamish was starting to wake up when Jane gestured Sherlock to be quiet and to keep Hamish sleeping.

"Mmmm..."

Sherlock kissed his forehead. "Hush, baby. Go back to sleep," whispered Sherlock softly.

"Daddy Sherwock..."

"Go back to sleep," whispered Sherlock to Hamish' left ear and kissed his forehead again.

Hamish eventually fell asleep again and Sherlock remained his position there, next to Hamish, embracing him with an arm as he caressed his curls with the other hand.

Sherlock wanted that moment to never end. He wanted to be there with Hamish forever, embracing him, feeling his little heart beating against his own and his soft curly hair brushing his neck.

While Jane prepared breakfast, Sherlock remained his position until he made himself sure Hamish was deeply asleep.

"Sorry, he insisted he wanted to sleep with you," explained Jane as she handed Sherlock his cup.

"It's okay."

After a few minutes of silence, Jane gathered all her courage and spoke first. "I can't make him understand you're not his daddy. I tried everything."

"I want to be his father."

"He always asked me why his friends had a mother and a father and he only had me," said Jane, biting her lip. "I can't understand why he chose to call you 'daddy'"

"What did you tell him?"

Jane bent her head, and looked at Hamish' peacefully sleeping form on the sofa, remembering all those moments in which she tried to explain Hamish they were alone, that there was no one to call 'daddy' because the two men who she once loved left her alone. "I told him he didn't have one, that it was only me."

"He's only three years old, he won't require further information for at least two or three more years," whispered Sherlock.

"I know."

"Let me be his father."

"Sherlock, I can't tell Hamish you're his father. It... it implies a lot of explanation I'm not going to do. It also implies an association Hamish will do - that we're together - and I don't want him to believe that. He's three years old and I can't afford to mess with his mind and the conception he has of his family. He already got problems, you know that," explained Jane, softly.

Sherlock nodded. "But he wants me to be his daddy. What are we meant to tell him then?"

"I don't know..."

Hamish woke up and immediately ran to his mother's arms, with a wide smile on his face.

"Mummy!"

"Happy birthday, Hamish!" said Jane as she pressed a warm kiss to her son's cheek. "I love you so much, baby."

There were tears on Jane's face, as she kissed Hamish and caressed his cheeks. With a hand, Jane helped Hamish with his hearing aid as he buried his face on her chest. Sherlock looked how Hamish' little fingers curled on Jane's shirt and how the boy closed his eyes, feeling his mother's heartbeats.

"I love you mummy."

It was a moment in which Sherlock remembered all the moment he shared with Jane, when she was pregnant. He remembered hugging her tightly in the park when she read the results saying she was pregnant. Jane cried because she was alone and she didn't know what to do, and Sherlock took her hand and promised her he was going to be with her. Then, when they got married, when they realised they loved each other. Sherlock liked to touch Jane's growing belly and wonder how and why that little baby inside her kicked every time he was around.

Sherlock liked to sit between Jane's legs and caress her belly, touch it, feel it, kiss it. Trace imaginary patterns with his fingertips and imagine together, with Jane, how their baby would look like.

And now, after all he things that had happened between them, there they were. They weren't the family they once dreamt of. They weren't together, loving each other and raising Hamish together, or with another baby on the way.

They were just two people living together, pretending nothing happened between them.

And a baby who wanted them both to be his parents.

"Daddy Shewock!" said Hamish as he ran to Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock helped him on his high chair and kissed his forehead. "Happy birthday, Hamish."

"Cake! Cake! I wanna cake!"

"No Hamish, later. We need to wait till nan Hudson is up," explained Jane.

But Hamish wanted his cake. "Cake! Cake, cake, cake!"

"Mrs Hudson won't wake up till a few more hours if she had another of her herbal shooters last night," said Sherlock.

Jane eventually placed the cake she had baked early that morning on the table, in front of Hamish and lit the three candles at the top. It was a very modest cake covered with chocolate and three blue candles at the top of it.

Hamish looked very happy and excited. He clapped his hands together and smiled at his mother and at Sherlock. Jane sat next to him and the three of them sang a very happy birthday song.

_"Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday to you._

_Happy birthday, little Hamish,_

_Happy birthday to you!"_

Before Hamish could blown off the candles of his cake, Jane kissed his cheek. "Remember your three wishes, Hamish."

Hamish nodded and after a few seconds, he blew the candles off. Sherlock, who had a wide smile upon his face kissed Hamish' cheek and hugged him tightly. Hamish clung to Sherlock's shirt and buried his face into his chest. Sherlock, still with Hamish in his arms, turned to wipe the little tears off his eyes.

Jane saw this, but didn't say a word.

"Happy birthday, Hamish. I'm sorry I missed the first two. I'm sorry, baby."

But Hamish didn't understand what Sherlock had just said. He only rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and clung his arms around his neck.

"I love you, Hamish."

"I love you too, daddy Sher-Sherlock."

Sherlock turned to face Jane. She had tears in her eyes too and she was smiling.

Maybe Sherlock had a chance.

A few minutes later they ate cake, Jane gave Hamish a present. It was a big box with crayons and pencils and a bunch of books specially designed for children with developmental delay problems like Hamish. Most of them had drawings of animals, which Hamish loved.

Sherlock handed Hamish a small blue wrapped box. Hamish thanked him, very politely, and tore the wrapping paper apart, revealing a white box which contained a new hearing aid.

"This one is smaller and more comfortable," said Sherlock as he replaced Hamish' older hearing aid and helped him to put on the new one. "Good?"

Hamish nodded. "Thwank you."

"It must have cost you a fortune. You didn't need to, Sherlock," said Jane, watching how Hamish started writing and painting using his new pencils.

"It fell off his ear yesterday, and the Americans stepped on it... Hamish needed a new one."

"I'll pay it back."

Sherlock shook his head. "No."

"Yes I am."

"Mind if I join you?"

Both turned, even Hamish, to look at Irene Adler, who had her hair damp, Sherlock's blue gown on and barefoot.

Jane immediately took Hamish off Sherlock's arms, sharply and tried to go to her room upstairs, when Irene stepped in front of her and smiled at Hamish. "What a cute little thing. I'd like to say he looks just like his daddy here, but we all know that would be a lie..."

"Don't touch my son!" hissed Jane, angrily.

"Jealous he would like me more just like Sherlock?"

Sherlock grabbed Irene by her arm and pulled her away from Jane, who ran to her room and slammed the door shut.

"What are you doing here?"

Irene smiled. "Don't pretend you don't like seeing me here, darling."

"Who's after you?"

"People who want to kill me."

"You faked your own death in order to get ahead of them."

"It worked for a while."

"But you let Jane know that you were alive, and therefore me."

"I knew you'd keep my secret," said Irene with a smile. "Where's my camera phone?"

Sherlock took the camera phone out of his jacket pocket. "What do you keep on here?"

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful," explained Irene. "For protection. I make my way in the world... I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

"But how do you acquire this information?"

Irene sat next to Sherlock. "I told you. I misbehave. And I want to  _misbehave_  with you."

"You've got something else here," said Sherlock, ignoring her previous comment. "Something you don't understand."

Sherlock handed Irene the camera phone and she pressed the passcode, but it beeped showing a wrong passcode screen.

"It's not working."

"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one-oh-five-eight," said Sherlock, as he took the original camera phone out his pocket and pressed the same code.

But it was not the correct code.

_**I AM 1058LOCKED** _

_**WRONG PASSCODE** _

_**1 ATTEMPT REMAINING.** _

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand."

"Oh, you're rather good," said Sherlock, softly. _**  
**_

"There was a man - an MOD official. I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it. He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?" asked Irene as she handed Sherlock her camera phone.

"Yes."

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it, though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out. What can you do, Mr Holmes?" asked Irene, leaning very close to Sherlock's shoulder, just inches away from his cheek. "Go on. Impress a girl like me."

Irene kissed Sherlock's cheek softly. She even took her time.

"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a seven-forty-seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet -"

Irene pushed Sherlock till he was against the table. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice."

"I've never begged for mercy in my life."

"Twice," said Irene, intensively, as she leaned forward, trying to kiss Sherlock's lips. Behind her, she had her camera phone, and she was tipping a text.

Neither of them realised Jane was looking at them from the door ajar.

And there were some tears in her eyes.


	55. Don't Cry

Sherlock was sitting on his armchair. He didn't even remember how he got there, but he was softly plucking the strings of his violin. He could remember Mycroft's words, when he went to his flat and told him not to investigate Irene Adler. There was something else. This case had something else and he was missing it.

"Coventry."

"I've never been there. Is it nice?" asked Irene, sitting on Jane's armchair, still wearing Sherlock's blue night gown.

The very same one Jane was wearing the night they made love for the first time.

"Where are they?"

"That girl and her child? They went out a couple of hours ago."

Sherlock bent his head. "I was just talking to her."

"Took a bag with her things and left. What's Coventry got to do with anything?"

"A bag with her things?" asked Sherlock, alarmed.

Irene nodded. "Not many things. She's spending the night outside. Better for us, isn't it?"

"It's a story, probably not true," Sherlock ignored her comment. "In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to know that they'd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway."

"Have you ever had anyone like me?" asked Irene, seductively, and completely out of the blue.

Sherlock frowned. "Sorry?"

"And when I say 'had', I'm being indelicate."

"I don't understand."

Irene got up from the chair and crawled until she was in front of Sherlock, between his knees. She placed both of her hands on each of Sherlock's knees and curled her thin, manicured fingers around the soft, expensive fabric of his tailored trousers. "Don't play stupid with me. I asked you if you ever had anyone like  _me_  before."

"That's not -"

"Let's have dinner."

"Why?"

"You might be hungry."

"I'm not."

Irene shook her head. "Yes you are. You're hungry. You want a woman desperately... you  _need_  a woman right now. You can't imagine all the things I can do to you, the things you can do to me, things you have never done to a woman. Would you like to try?"

Sherlock moved forward, and hesitating a bit, he took Irene' right wrist and pressed his fingers softly, at the same time he looked into her eyes. "Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?"

"Leave her, Mr Holmes. She's not woman enough for you," said Irene, as she leaned forward, and now she was very close to Sherlock' lips. "Take me. Take me and let's go, far away from here. You and me."

"I can't."

"If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"

Both heard a child crying. It was Hamish. Sherlock's eyes were now fixated on the closed door. Hamish was downstairs, he was crying and his crying was the one when he missed his mummy - Jane was not home then.

"Too late."

Sherlock turned to face her again. "That's not the end of the world. It's my son."

"He's not your son," said Irene as she left the room.

Two men opened the door. "Have you come to take me away  _again_?"

They were the very same men who dragged him to Buckingham Palace. "Yes, Mr Holmes."

"Well, I decline."

"I don't think you do," said one of the men, as he handed Sherlock a white envelope with a boarding pass inside.

* * *

Sherlock was driven to the airport, and then he was told to get into the plane, where he found it crowded with people. But they were all dead.

"The Coventry conundrum," said Mycroft as he got a few steps close to Sherlock, but he was still keeping a considerable distance. "What do you think of my solution? The flight of the dead." _  
_

 _"_ The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies."

Mycroft smiled. "Neat, don't you think? We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight. But that's the deceased for you - late, in every sense of the word."

"How's the plane going to fly?"

"It doesn't fly. It will  _never_  fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished."

Sherlock nodded. "Your MOD man."

"That's all it takes, one lonely, broken naïve man desperate to show off  _again_ , prove himself clever  _again_ , and a woman clever enough to make him feel special, exactly when he  _needs_  to."

"You should screen your defence people more carefully -"

"I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; I'm talking about  _you_!" hissed Mycroft, angrily. Sherlock looked at his brother confused, but didn't say a word. "The damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love... pleasure, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle... and watch him dance. You are playing with fire!"

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "Don't be absurd."

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?"

Before Sherlock could say something, Irene stepped in between them. "I think it was less than five seconds."

"I drove you into her path. But I suppose things got worse _._ I'm sorry. I didn't know," said Mycroft.

"Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk."

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on -"

"Not you, Junior," said Irene, ignoring Sherlock but getting close to Mycroft. "You're done now. There's more... loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me - unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

* * *

"What happened? He hurt you, didn't he? That bastard -" hissed Bill as he tried to get off his chair, but Jane took his wrist.

"No, he didn't do anything!"

Bill was sitting next to Jane in a pub. They were drinking calmly, at least until Jane started crying. She had several pints and Bill couldn't stop her. Jane was a mess of tears, and for the first time since they knew each other, Bill saw Jane crying helplessly, and he didn't know what to do.

Jane had called him a few hours ago, asking him to met her at the usual place because she needed him.

Truth to be told, Bill was waiting for this. He was waiting for Sherlock to make a mistake so then Jane would accept and understand Sherlock was not good. Bill tried to convince Jane he loved her and her son and that he was man enough for her. But even after almost three months dating, Bill couldn't get Sherlock off Jane's head. He knew she still loved him - and Bill hated that.

There had been times in which they were alone at his flat and they were meant to study together, but every time they kissed and the kisses became deep and passionately, Jane broke the kiss and rejected him. Bill wanted Jane, and he knew maybe being with her, intimately, would make her forget Sherlock Holmes.

"He wants that woman... and I can't compete against her... I just can't," whispered Jane.

Bill kissed her cheek. "Jane, move with me."

"What?"

"Move with me. You and Hamish."

"But..." Jane seemed to consider it for a moment. "I can't."

"My flat is big. Hamish can have his own room, you won't pay any rent."

"It's not because of that, Bill. I... Hamish loves Sherlock," explained Jane, wiping the tears off her face and drinking a last pint. "I'm sorry."

Bill took a deep breath and looked away. "I'll take you to back home. You're drunk," said he, as he kissed her lips and took her hand.

* * *

"We have people who can get into this," said Mycroft, staring at the camera phone on his table.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for a reasonable amount of time," said Irene, as she crossed her long legs. "Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone."

Sherlock, who was sitting far from Mycroft and Irene closed his eyes. He had X-rayed Irene Adler's camera phone and that's when he found out about it. _"_ There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."

"Some data is always recoverable."

Irene nodded. "Take that risk."

"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."

"Sherlock?" asked Irene.

"There will be two passcodes, one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt."

"He's good, isn't he?" said Irene, smiling, looking at Sherlock. "I should have him on a leash - in fact, I  _might."_

 _"_ We destroy this, then. No one has the information," said Mycroft.

"Fine. Good idea. Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn."

Mycroft frowned. "Are there?"

"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing any more," said Irene as she took a white envelope off her purse. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted. I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation, but then I'd be lying. I imagine you'd like to sleep on it."

"Thank you, yes."

"Too bad. Off you pop and talk to people."

"You've been very... thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you," admitted the older Holmes.

Irene laughed "I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help," said she, as he turned to watch Sherlock. "Jim Moriarty sends his love."

Sherlock caught his breath and stood up.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, he's been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention, which I'm sure can be arranged. And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees," said Mycroft, offering his hand. "Nicely played."

Irene Adler and Mycroft Holmes were about to shake hands when Sherlock walked close to her. "No."

"Sorry?" asked Irene, confused.

"I said no. Very, very close, but no. You got carried away _._ The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."

Irene smiled. "No such thing as too much."

"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game, I sympathise entirely, but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side - and this was a  _game_."

"Sentiment? What are you talking about?"

"You."

Irene shook her head. "Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever man? You'll never be man enough for me. You're not even man enough for that woman of yours," said Irene, trying to hurt Sherlock. "Jim was right. D'you know what he calls you? The Wild... you like to hit women, that makes you feel powerful doesn't it."

"No," said Sherlock, getting close to her ear and completely ignoring her previous comments. "Because I took your pulse, elevated. Your pupils dilated. I imagine everyone thinks love is something that can't be related to me anymore - but chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive. When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements; but this... this is far more intimate," said Sherlock as he took the camera phone and typed the code. "This is your heart, and you had never let it rule your head. You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for, but you just couldn't resist it, could you? You'd always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage."

Irene looked into Sherlock's eyes. There was hatred. Even when she had tried, even when Irene had tried to get rid of Jane Watson and take Sherlock Holmes with her, she knew that was not going to happen. "I was just playing the game."

"I know," nodded Sherlock, whispering. "This is just losing."

_**I AM** _

_**SHERLOCKED** _

_"_ There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight," said Sherlock, handing Mycroft the camera phone. "If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her protection."

"Are you expecting me to beg?" asked Irene, with tears in her eyes.

"Yes."

"Please. I want you. Let me be yours.  _Please_."

"I can't. I've got a family. And I love Jane," said Sherlock, as he left. He didn't even turned to look at her.

* * *

It was dark. Bill took the keys from Jane's trembling hands and opened the door of the building. Once inside, Bill helped Jane walking up the stairs. It was very difficult since Jane was drunk and her steps were clumsy.

As soon as they got to Jane's room, Bill placed her on her bed and removed her jacket and her shoes off her.

"Bill... kiss me," said Jane as she sat on her bed.

Bill sat next to her and placed both hands on her waist. He kissed her. But it was the last kiss they were sharing, Bill thought. He knew no matter what he did or what he could do, Jane would always love Sherlock.

He couldn't compete against Sherlock Holmes.

The kiss was deep and passionate, and soon Jane was pulling at his clothes. Now Bill was over Jane, kissing her passionately and running his hands on Jane's body. Bill placed himself between her legs and continued kissing her lips and biting her neck. Neither of them knew what they were doing, but they continued. Jane continued kissing Bill as he touched her body.

And Bill thought he might have a chance.

Maybe.

But when before they could go any further, Jane moaned another name - not his. "Ah yes... Sherlock, I love you. Ah... make me yours... please," moaned Jane.

No.

Jane would never be his. She will always always be Sherlock's.

Always.

"I'm sorry, Bill. I'm sorry."

Bill knew Jane was not doing this on purpose. Jane was drunk. But either way, she would have moaned Sherlock's name even if she hadn't had any beer on her system. Bill kissed Jane one last time, and covered her body with her duvet and left. Jane had her eyes closed and she looked deeply asleep.

Bill didn't bother straightening his clothes, or his hair or cleaning the lipstick off his face. He went downstairs, and the sitting room was dark when he ran into Sherlock Holmes, who was going to check if Jane was in her room.

"What are you doing here?"

Sherlock's eyes scanned Bill Murray: Lipstick on his lips. Messy hair. Love bites on his neck. First five buttons of his shirt were undone. Shirt out of his jeans. The fly of his jeans was down-

No.

No, no, no, no.

No.

No!

"Jane's upstairs. She's sleeping," replied Bill.

"What did you do to her? Don't lie to me. I can smell the alcohol."

"We haven't done anything -"

"Don't lie to me!" hissed Sherlock, angrily

But Bill didn't show any emotion at Sherlock's angry face so close to his. "If you're so clever you should know we did nothing. Want to know why?" asked Bill, looking at Sherlock in the eye, looking tremendously disappointed. "Because she said she loves you. You can't imagine what it feels like when the woman you're about to make love to moans another man's name, can you?"

Sherlock knew it. He knew what it was like. The first time he was about to make love to Jane she moaned Sam Sawyer's name, not his. Sherlock knew what it feels like when he had a woman - Jane - underneath him, and he was kissing her body, touching her skin, trying to do all within his power to make her feel pleasure, trying to make her feel loved, but she moaned another name and not his.

But Sherlock was not going to admit this. Not to Bill Murray.

"She said she loves you. I can't compete against you. It doesn't matter how hard I try. She's yours."

The young detective watched as Bill took his jacket and left.

Sherlock went to Jane's room and found her sleeping on her bed, on her right shoulder, facing the wall. He sat next to her and let a hand run over Jane's soft, fair, short hair and kissed her temple. This made Jane wake up and Sherlock saw a deep pink blush on her cheeks. She tossed to face him and smiled. The alcohol was fading away.

"Come 'ere," said Jane as she moved her body further to her side.

Sherlock removed his shoes, then his coat, his jacket and lay next to Jane. As the bed was narrow for both to fit in, Jane tossed and rested her head on his chest. Sherlock placed an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and kissed her head, but Jane wanted to meet his lips. Their kiss was soft, but soon it became deeper and passionate and their tongues were fighting now. Jane's clumsy fingers were working on Sherlock's shirt and moans escaped from their lips all the time, as they bodies became closer and as their kisses became deeper.

"Sherlock... I love you," whispered Jane.

Sherlock broke their kiss and looked into her blue eyes. "Jane, you're drunk. You'll forget this in the morning."

"No, I won't," said Jane, softly. "I want you again, Sherlock. I want you to be Hamish' daddy. I want  _us_  to be a family."

Sherlock was not quite sure if this was happening. Really happening. Jane was kissing him, biting his lip, caressing his chest, saying she loved him and that she wanted to be with him and that she wanted him to be her son's father.

"Yes."

"I love you, Sherlock. Please tell me you love me," whispered Jane.

He had waited so much for this. After so long, after three years, they were there, finally kissing and accepting they loved each other after all the things that had happened between them.

"I love you," said Sherlock and kissed Jane again. "I'm so sorry for all the things I did -"

"Hush," Jane silenced Sherlock pressing a finger to his lips.

"Jane, I need your forgiveness," said he with small tears in his eyes.

"Hush, it's okay. Don't cry, love. Don't cry."

Jane kissed Sherlock's lips one last time and then she kissed his tears, his cheeks, his forehead and then she rested her head over his chest, feeling Sherlock's heartbeats.

Both fell asleep in each other's arms. After so much blood, tears, pains... they were finally together. And they were finally happy.

And in love.


	56. How You See the World

Jane was the first waking up. She felt cold, she was lying with her back against the cold wall, but Sherlock's hands on her back were warm enough for her. Jane opened her eyes and met Sherlock's peacefully sleeping face. He was snoring, but it was hardly and annoying sound. Jane chuckled, she had missed so much that light snoring of his, so soft, yet so warm. She smiled as she pressed a light kiss to Sherlock's lips and ran a hand over his dark, wild curls. In the silence of the room, Jane heard their hearts beating in unison, pounding within their chests happily, in peace now.

Jane pressed her body tightly against Sherlock's, wanting the moment to never end. She didn't want to leave Sherlock's side because she had missed him so much, she had longed for his touch, his lips, his love for so long that she could hardly care about anything in that moment, until Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Hey," whispered Jane as she kissed him one more time.

Sherlock kissed her and smiled; there were sparkles in his eyes as he looked at Jane's smiley, happy face pressed over his chest. "You're cold."

"It's okay."

Sherlock pulled her even closer and kissed her forehead. "Better?" asked he, softly.

Jane nodded. "Mmm."

"Do you remember what you said last night?"

"Of course," said Jane and kissed him again.

Neither of them knew what to say. Sherlock had more apologies in mind, truth to be told, there was not a single day in which he remembered what he had done, all the damage he had caused in not only Jane but also in Hamish' life. And he wanted Jane to know he was sorry, that he was deeply sorry for what he had done.

And Jane wanted to say so many things; that she loved Sherlock, that she wanted him to be part of her little family, be Hamish' father, be her husband again, and just be the couple they used to be.

"I thought you were leaving with that woman," said Jane after a few minutes of silence. "She's better than me; she's clever, beautiful, she's all I'm not."

Sherlock kissed her hand. "She wasn't better than you.  _You_  are beautiful.  _You_  are clever.  _You_  are the one I love." said Sherlock between kisses, making special emphasis on the 'you's'.

"You could have left with her. You still can."

"How can I leave when you and our son are all I want?"

"Are you sure?" asked Jane, a bit unsure.

"Yes. You and Hamish are all I want."

Jane caressed Sherlock's knuckles. "I missed you so much," she confessed. "You can't imagine how much I missed you. How much I needed you."

"I missed you too. Believe me, Jane, I missed you so much. These past three years have been so," whispered Sherlock, close to tears. "I wanted to kill myself. But the only thing that kept me alive was you. And Hamish. You gave me a reason to get clean."

"Hush, don't cry love. Don't cry anymore," Jane kissed his tears and hugged him tightly. "You're here now. You came back to us."

They were deeply lost in their love, kissing each other, it was all about them until Hamish opened the door of the room and climbed on the bed, making himself comfortable between his mummy and Sherlock.

Sherlock hugged him tightly and inhaled Hamish' scent, as he let the little boy rest his head over his chest and Sherlock buried his face into his son's little head. Jane kissed Sherlock's cheek and nodded.

"Wanna... wanna mummy and da-ddaddy," mumbled Hamish.

Jane smiled to her son. "Good morning, baby."

"Daddy Sherwock, nan Husson says you have to-to clean mess," said Hamish as he hugged Sherlock.

Jane got off the bed and looked for her dressing gown. "Hamish, go downstairs and play with your toys. Sherlock and I need to talk."

"Breefast! Wanna milk!"

"Give us a second, okay baby?" asked Jane softly as she patted Hamish' head affectionately. "I'll make pancakes!"

"Yes!"

Hamish left them alone and Jane stood in front of Sherlock. Her expression was serious. "We need to talk about Hamish."

"He doesn't need an explanation."

"Yes, he does. He's very little now, but he will grow up. And one day he will ask why you were absent his first two years. And I don't know if we should tell him we're together."

"As you said, he's still a small child. He will hardly inquire about our status."

"Exactly," said Jane. "I don't know if we should, you know, kiss in front of him. He's seen me with Bill."

Sherlock didn't say anything about Bill Murray. "You want to keep this secret - no, you want to take things slowly."

Jane nodded. "Not only because of Hamish, but also... let's do it for us. Okay?"

Sherlock nodded. "I love you," said he, and then, placing both hands on her waist, Sherlock pulled Jane closer and kissed her tenderly.

* * *

Jane did as she had promised. She cooked pancakes and both Jane and Sherlock sat together, side by side and ate breakfast calmly, sharing quick, sweet kisses when Hamish was not looking or distracted with his toys. They would, every moment or so, touch their hands under the table, and Sherlock even placed a hand on Jane's back, caressing her reassuringly and smiling all the time.

It was a very cold Saturday, but that didn't stop them to have a nice day indoors; Jane did some homework and revising, and Sherlock helped Hamish with his speech, played with him and taught him the colours and he even let the little boy help him with his experiments.

The change was significant. Before, Jane would hardly speak to Sherlock. And even though she let him stay with Hamish, she was always keeping an eye on them, making herself sure Sherlock was not neglecting Hamish, that her son was not playing with dangerous chemicals and so on. But now things were different. Jane knew she didn't need to go and check Sherlock was looking after Hamish properly. Now Jane was fully, completely convinced Sherlock was going to take care of him.

They were having dinner when Hamish didn't want to sit on his high chair but on Sherlock's lap.

"You have your chair, Hamish."

Sherlock helped Hamish with his food. "It's okay."

"Wanna eat with daddy!"

Jane looked at Sherlock. She knew she was going to lose the battle; Hamish wanted to be with Sherlock, and Sherlock, well, he wanted to be with Hamish. And she wanted them to be together, but Hamish had to learn he had his own chair, and that he was already a big boy to eat alone and hold his fork properly.

"Just this once, Hamish. You're a big boy!"

Hamish ate his food and soon he was asking his mummy to hold him before going to sleep. Jane sat on her armchair and let Hamish lie on her lap as the boy rested his head on the crook of her right arm. With her index finger, Jane moved Hamish' fair curls off his forehead and kissed his little nose, which many people have told her, made him look a lot like her.

Taking advantage Sherlock was not there but having a shower, Jane made the question. "Hamish, do you love Sherlock?"

Hamish nodded, a bit sleepily.

"Remember what I told you, baby... about your daddy?"

"No daddy."

Jane kissed him again, remembering the time she told Hamish he didn't have a father like anyone else. "Sherlock is your daddy."

"Sherwock daddy?" asked Hamish, and his eyes lit up.

"Yes. Sherlock is your daddy. I'm your mummy and he's your daddy. Can you understand that, baby?"

Jane looked how her son nodded and curled his little fingers around her tee and closed his eyes, falling asleep. Then, she went upstairs and placed him on his bed. Once she made herself sure Hamish was fine, covered with a thick duvet and with his favourite stuffed bear close to him, she closed the door and went downstairs to have a cup of tea before going to sleep.

She knew there was no coming back. Jane also knew she might have needed to wait a bit longer before telling Hamish Sherlock was his father, but Jane trusted Sherlock. She knew he as not going to make the same mistake twice. And she knew he was being honest, and that he wanted them both. Telling Hamish Sherlock was his father was not an easy thing, it was not something Jane could later erase from her son's mind; Hamish was just three years old, yes, but what was being written on his life, all the events, at this moment, were important - very important.

But soon her thoughts were interrupted when she felt Sherlock's soft hands on her waist and his damp curls on the curve of her neck, and not only that, but also his warm lips on the exposed skin of her neck.

"Sher -"

"Hush," said he, and then silenced her kissing more of her skin.

Feeling Sherlock's soft hands on her belly, as he used to touch her when she was pregnant, his lips on her neck, sucking and biting her skin and his damp curls were too much. Too much to handle after so much time apart. Jane turned and kissed him, meeting his lips and biting his lower lip, making Sherlock moan a little.

But then, Jane knew it was too much.

"I can't. Sorry, but I can't."

Sherlock nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I just... I can't. Not now."

Sherlock kissed once more time and took her hand. "Stay with me. Just tonight."

Both lay next to each other that night. Jane rested her head on Sherlock's chest, as she used to do not only when they were friends, but also after they got married and when they fell in love. Sherlock embraced her and both just lay in each other's arm, in silence.

Until Sherlock placed a hand over Jane's flat stomach. "I miss touching you and feeling Hamish' kicking."

"He always kicked when you were around."

"I've always wondered why he did that."

Jane giggled. "He knew you were around because my heart beat faster. My heart still beats faster for you."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sherlock."


	57. Lost

Two months later, Jane, Hamish and Sherlock settled down into a new routine and things changed completely. Life in Baker Street was nothing like it used to be.

Jane quite her job after Sherlock had assured her he was going to support not only her but Hamish too and now she had more time to study and spend time with Hamish. Jane also fixed things with Bill. They talked about their relationship and Jane explained Bill she loved Sherlock and that she was sorry for what she did, and for, somehow, not being the girl Bill wanted her to be. Bill understood and he asked Jane to be friends again.

And they continued being friends.

Sherlock continued working with Lestrade and now he was getting more cases. Though they were a bit boring and mundane, Sherlock couldn't complain; there was always a silly criminal leaving traces and clues on crime scenes and every now and then appeared someone who had enough brains to keep Sherlock thinking over some clue for a few hours. However, there were also moments when Sherlock rejected some cases only to spend more time with Hamish and Jane. Now Lestrade was definitely convinced Sherlock was clean and that he was a good father to Hamish and a good boyfriend to Jane. Even Mrs Hudson was happy, and she told them so every time she could.

The room upstairs now belonged to Hamish. The little boy had his own bed, a bigger space for his toys and books and Sherlock even got him a desk and a chair suitable for him, where Jane placed his colouring books, his crayons and pencils. Hamish was improving his language and speech skills amazingly. Everyone praised his improvement and Jane knew it was because of Sherlock's influence. Even when Sherlock had been offered a good case to work with, the young detective preferred to stay at home and help Hamish teaching him new words or playing with him with his special toys.

Jane moved downstairs and now she shared the bed with Sherlock. Her old side of the bed was there waiting for her, as Sherlock's warm arms, ready to cuddle her and hug her on the last cold nights of the Winter, and why not, on the Spring nights too.

As part of their new routine, Hamish would always be the first waking up. He liked to wonder around the flat waiting for his parents to wake up, or sometimes he would just open the door of the room, climb on the bed and make himself comfortable between them, until Jane was up and making breakfast while Sherlock helped Hamish with his bath. After breakfast, Jane would take Hamish to nursery and then she would go to class, while Sherlock worked on his experiments or with Lestrade at the Yard.

In the afternoons, Sherlock always pick up Hamish after nursery and after that he would, every now and then, take the little boy to the park to play, run along and have fun with another kids his age while they waited for Jane until she finished her classes and then they would met her there. Then, the three of them would go to have dinner or just tea at Angelo's, where Angelo liked to spoil Hamish giving him free cookies.

Everyone agreed they were a lovely family.

Life was, to Jane, perfect again.

"Do you want me to read you a story before going to bed?"

Hamish shook his head and yawned. "Tirew."

"It's 'tired'," corrected Jane, softly, while she put him on his bed and waited until he was deeply asleep to turn off the lights and go back to the sitting room, where she was reading for uni and waiting for Sherlock to come back. He had left after Lestrade to solve a case on the other side of the city and he had just sent her a text saying he was going back home soon.

But she fell asleep waiting and soon afterwards, Jane woke up feeling a pair of warm lips on hers. Sherlock was sitting next to her on the sofa and he was holding a bunch of red roses.

"Happy birthday," said he between kisses. "I love you."

"Thank you, Sherlock. They are lovely."

Jane was putting the flowers in a vase with water when Sherlock hugged her from her back and kissed her neck, passionately, at the same time he was caressing the skin of her legs and arms. "Ahhh Sherlock..." panted Jane, feeling Sherlock's erection being pressed against her.

Sherlock had got home just after midnight, and it was Jane's birthday. As soon as his greyish eyes met Jane's figure on the sofa, her exposed legs and her bare arms, thanks to the short white nightgown she was wearing, he couldn't help but feel aroused. And she was also wearing his blue dressing gown. Sherlock loved it when she was using his blue night gown. It reminded him of the first night they made love.

"I need you, please."

There was something in the air. Maybe it was because Jane felt hot, or maybe it was because of the heat - they needed to get the air-conditioner fixed soon. But Sherlock's deep voice in her ears, his long, warm hands on her body, his soft curls brushing her neck and his always-erotic lips made Jane know it was time.

She was ready now.

They had taken things slowly, very slowly. They kissed and touched when Hamish was either not looking or not present in the room. They barely referred each other by another word but 'love', and while sharing the same bed, they did nothing more than kissing and touching until certain limit. And that was all. The intimate touches, those who were most of the times those in which their hands got under their clothes were always repressed by Jane. She was still not ready to accept Sherlock, not in that way. And Sherlock had no choice and accepted this. He knew they could not just make love after all the things that had happened between them.

So Sherlock waited.

Until that night.

Jane kissed him fiercely, hungrily, needy. She sat on the counter, making it easier for her to cling her legs to his hips and now their heads were at the same level. Sherlock pressed his hands to her lower back, pulling her closer. While kissing, Jane felt Sherlock's erection and she moaned when he pressed her against the counter and thrust.

Jane's hands pulled at his blue scarf, his coat and his jacket, which were now all on the floor, forgotten. Her clumsy fingers were now working on his shirt, and as soon as she got rid of it, she moved her hands downwards to undo Sherlock's belt and the fly of his trousers.

"I need you too, Sherlock. Make me yours," whispered Jane.

Sherlock took her to his room and closed the door. Once inside, both kept kissing as Sherlock pulled at the straps of her nightgown until it feel to the floor. Sherlock fell to his knees and pulled at Jane's panties until she was completely naked in front of him. Sherlock's soft hand cupped one of her breasts as he played with her nipples, feeling them hard under his touch. Jane threw her head back and closed her eyes shut, feeling Sherlock's warm hands on her body.

Then, once they were both naked, Jane pushed Sherlock until he fell on his back on the bed. Jane knelt between his knees, and stroked his erection several times until she took him into her mouth. Sherlock had to shut his eyes tightly as he felt Jane' warm mouth around his erection. Jane kissed the tip of his cock while pulling the foreskin back, making Sherlock moan her name. She licked the head and the shaft, making Sherlock shut his eyes tightly, and moaning not only her name but incoherent things as well.

However, before she could continue, Sherlock took her hands and made her sit on his lap, placing each of her legs around his waist. "I love you," whispered he before taking one of her nipples into his mouth. Jane let her hands ran over Sherlock's curls as her head lolled back, as desire and lust filled them both, as their naked bodies were in constant touch.

Sherlock made them roll on the bed and he placed himself between her legs. Before kissing her, he looked at her left shoulder and the stitch scar, now healed after three years, on her already wounded shoulder. Those were scars left after he had hurt her, before Sherlock pushed her down the stairs.

Sherlock kissed the scarred shoulder with soft, warm kisses. "I'm sorry," another kiss. "I'm so sorry."

"Hush, it's okay."

Sherlock moved downwards, kissing her chest, her breasts, her nipples, her ribs and then her flat stomach.

"I've got stretching marks after the pregnancy," admitted Jane, a bit embarrassed for her body.

"You're beautiful."

Sherlock was spreading Jane' legs apart and positioning himself between them when Jane placed a hand on his upper arm and looked at him. "Have you got a... uh, a condom?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Sherlock, I can't -"

"I'm clean."

"I know you are," said Jane.

Sherlock looked at her incredulously, until he understood. The way Jane was looking at him, how she was pressing her arms to her stomach. They had never needed a condom before. But now the story was different. Jane was not pregnant and there were risks.

It was not a difficult deduction. "You're close to your fertile cycle."

Jane nodded, blushing.

"We can try for a baby," said Sherlock, kissing her stomach.

And Jane caught her breath. She didn't know what to say. She knew it was going to be hard to get pregnant, that's what the doctor's had told her after Hamish was born. But looking into Sherlock's hopeful eyes, Jane couldn't say no. But she still had her own doubts.

"We can try for a baby," repeated Sherlock.

"I don't know, Sherlock. I'm still in uni, you're working, Hamish is still very little and he needs all our attention."

Sherlock kissed her stomach. "Please. Let's have another baby."

Jane remember those days when she was pregnant and when Sherlock was with her. She had loved her pregnancy. Hamish had been such a good baby when he was inside her. Maybe she could have more babies. Maybe now that they were stable, they could enjoy - truly enjoy what is to expect for a baby.

Maybe.

Jane smiled. Maybe they could try, and give Hamish a little brother or sister. "Let's have another baby."

Sherlock didn't need to hear more. He sunk into Jane with one long, soft, slow thrust as he kissed her deeply.

They made love like they had never done before.

"It'll be a boy," whispered Jane, still catching her breath. "It'll be a boy."

Four weeks later, Jane was in the bathroom staring at the two pregnancy tests she had bought.

Both were negative.

She went to the kitchen where she found Sherlock making tea for them and pouring milk for Hamish, who was watching some cartoons in the sitting room.

"Negative?"

Jane nodded and came close to him to hug him. She had some little tears in her eyes. "No baby this time."

Sherlock kissed her tenderly and placed a hand on her flat, empty belly. "Maybe we should keep trying."

"Maybe we should," said Jane with a hopeful smile.

Another four weeks later, Jane was inside the bathroom staring at three different pregnancy tests.

The three of them were positive.

She was pregnant again.

It was late when Sherlock returned from Cardiff after he had helped Lestrade solving a complicated case this time that took, at least, a few hours until Sherlock could solve it.

Hamish was upstairs sleeping when Jane welcomed Sherlock with a passionate kiss, a big hug and some tears in her eyes. "You're going to be a daddy again," whispered Jane to Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock kissed her tenderly and placed a hand on her still flat belly.

"I'm pregnant, Sherlock! We're going to have another baby soon!"

That night, while they were lying in each other's arms, thinking about different baby names, how their baby would look like and how they would manage having two children, Sherlock confessed Jane it was one of the most happiest days in his life.

Now he was so happy. It was a feeling that Sherlock had never experienced before. That tiny little life inside Jane was his. It was a mixture of both, it was going to be their baby. It was a feeling Sherlock didn't have when Jane was expecting Hamish. Sherlock couldn't say he loved more this baby than Hamish. He loved them both equally, because he considered both as his. But this moment was different; Jane was not crying because she was too young to have a baby and because she was alone. She was now a woman, and she wasn't alone, she had Sherlock. And Sherlock was not going to run away. He was going to stay by her side, always.

"Let's keep this secret, at least after the third month."

Sherlock pouted. "But I want Mycroft to know."

"You only want Mycroft to know so you can laugh at him because you've got two children and he's still single!"

"Quite. Should we tell Hamish?"

Jane shook her head. "We should wait. None pregnancy is safe until after the third moth."

"I can't wait to have this baby," said Sherlock as he kissed her still flat stomach. "I can't wait to feel it kicking inside you."

It was the truth. Sherlock couldn't wait, he just couldn't wait to caress a big pregnant bump, feeling their baby kicking inside, tell Hamish he was going to have a little brother or sister and do all the things he couldn't do when Hamish was born because he was away trying to get himself clean.

"D'you want a little girl or a little boy?"

Sherlock kissed her lips. "I just want it to be healthy and beautiful like its mother."

* * *

They kept Jane's pregnancy to themselves. Neither of them felt like saying it just yet. However, Jane stared eating healthily, and taking things slowly. Sherlock didn't let her do anything in the house, and he was there when the first symptoms started to show up.

"Mummy sikk!"

Sherlock nodded and tried to distract Hamish while Jane threw up on the kitchen sink. They were having breakfast all together three weeks after they had known Jane was expecting a baby when the morning sickness started.

The morning sickness was something Jane had to go through practically every morning, when Mrs Hudson tea and her food were too much to handle. And throwing up almost every morning, fainting twice one week and having some craving for specific types of food made their landlady realise about Jane's condition.

"Congratulations, Jane, Sherlock!"

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," said Jane, happily. "Though we'll appreciate it if you don't tell anyone."

"Why keeping it secret? Such marvellous news. Oh! Is it because of Hamish?"

"We just want to wait one month more," explained Jane.

Jane had a very, but very small pregnant bump no one noticed but Sherlock and herself. When they were alone, Sherlock liked to touch her stomach, kiss it and trace imaginary patterns with his fingertips as he wondered if it was a boy or a little girl. Jane always said it was going to be a boy with dark curls like its father, while Sherlock said it was going to be a little girl with Jane's blue eyes and soft features.

Sherlock was so protective over Jane. He didn't like her to do anything, and he only wanted her to stay calm. Mrs Hudson was helping them with the cleaning and sometimes with the cooking and keeping an eye on Hamish when Jane had to study or simply when she felt weak or tired. Sherlock stopped working to stay at home and make himself sure Jane was fine. He wanted to stay with her, do the things he couldn't do when they were expecting Hamish and just be there with Jane.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Jane nodded. She was sitting over Sherlock and she was practically begging for him to take her harder. "Yes Sherlock!"

The sexual activities increased as Jane's pregnancy progressed. Sherlock had experienced that when they were expecting Hamish, but far from being angry or tired for it, Sherlock enjoyed it. God, Jane was pulling at his clothes as soon as they were alone, when Hamish was downstairs with Mrs Hudson or when it was late in the night and they were in their own room.

"I... ahhhhh! Sherlock, yes... !" panted Jane.

Sherlock chuckled and thrust. Some minutes later, both were catching their breaths and kissing passionately.

"I love you."

He kissed her belly. "I love you."

* * *

A few weeks later, their blossoming happiness came to an end.

Jane was nine weeks pregnant, according to her, and she was to have her second ultrasound in a week, to maybe, just maybe, hear her baby's heartbeats for the first time when it happened.

It was a nice Sunday and they were in the flat relaxing. Hamish was napping upstairs while Jane and Sherlock were cuddling and kissing while watching a film. Both were on the sofa; Jane was sitting on Sherlock's lap with both arms around his neck while he had an arm around her waist and his other hand was softly stroking her very small pregnant bump.

Jane felt thirsty and when she walked to the kitchen, she felt a severe pain on her lower abdomen. She curled her fingers on the door frame of the kitchen and gasped in pain.

"Agghhhh..."

Sherlock saw Jane pressing a hand to her lower abdomen. "Are you okay?" asked he, worriedly.

"Yes... yes, it's just," tried to say Jane, pressing a hand to her very small pregnant bump, but she fainted and fell to the floor.

Sherlock immediately ran to take a look at her. He knelt next to her but his eyes soon met a massive blood stain on Jane's jeans.

Jane was losing their baby.


	58. Baby on Board

A day later, Jane opened her eyes and found her son snuggling against her, and Sherlock Holmes sitting next to her.

She felt so weak. Jane felt tired and ill. She didn't know what had happened to her; the last thing she remembered was sitting with Sherlock watching a Bond film, then she remembered herself falling to the floor and everything was black.

Sherlock placed a hand over her stomach. And that's when Jane remembered.

"What- how's my baby?" asked Jane, worriedly.

The young detective curled his lips upwards and kissed her forehead. "Our baby's okay. Everything is okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The baby is fine. It was just an episode of vaginal bleeding, according to the doctors," explained Sherlock and then let a hand ran over Hamish' fair curls. "He wanted to see you."

Jane kissed Hamish' head, which was resting over her chest. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising? You did nothing wrong."

"I almost lost our baby."

Sherlock lay on the bed next to Jane and kissed her lips tenderly, and hugged both Jane and Hamish with his long arms. "But you didn't. We're going to have this baby. I promise."

"What did I do to deserve someone like you?" asked Jane, taking a deep breath and feeling Sherlock's scent, that scent that made her feel secure, safe.

"You gave me a family."

Jane smiled. "I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you."

* * *

A few days later Jane was allowed to leave hospital. But before she could go back to Baker Street, she had her second ultrasound done. As Jane lay on the stretcher, Sherlock was standing next to her and taking her hand, while Hamish was sitting next to his mummy.

The images were beautiful. Their baby was still very, very little.

"Hamish, can you look there?" asked Jane as she pointed at the monitor close to them, where they were watching the images of the baby. Hamish nodded. "That's a baby. Mummy is going to have a baby."

Sherlock looked at Hamish' confused face. "Baby?"

"Yes, Hamish. Jane's going to have a baby. That means you're going to have a little brother or a little sister," explained Sherlock.

The doctor smiled. "Or both!"

" _WHAT?_ " asked both Jane and Sherlock in unison.

"Don't worry, I was joking. You're definitely having one baby," said the doctor. "Now, you want to hear the heartbeats?"

Jane's grip on Sherlock's hand tightened. She nodded and they were all in silence when they heard the baby's peaceful heartbeats.

"Oh my God," breathed Jane.

Hamish' eyes lit up. "Tud-tud!"

Sherlock kissed his son's forehead. "That's the baby's heart!"

"I'll print you a copy of the scan. You have a very healthy baby, Miss Watson. Just take care of yourself, try not to worry, avoid stressful situations and have some rest," said the doctor as he left them to have a moment alone.

Jane sat on the stretcher and took Hamish' hand and placed it on her belly. "Here's the baby."

Hamish pressed a kiss to her stomach and smiled. "Baby!"

Sherlock wiped the tears off Jane's face and kissed her lips. Jane felt so happy, she couldn't believe it was real. She couldn't believe she had Sherlock, Hamish, and a new baby. And her baby was fine, healthy. She was fine and healthy too. Somehow, she felt she didn't deserve all that happiness.

* * *

Sherlock opened his eyes as soon as he felt a pair of soft hands on his chest. It was a warm night, not too hot, but warm enough to only sleep with a thin sheet over their bodies and the windows open. It had been a long day; as it was Saturday, they went to the park and sat on a bench and watched Hamish playing with some kids. Jane couldn't walk much since she had been advised to take things easy and not to go on long walks or do exercise. But the problems started once they were back home; Hamish was covered in mud from head to toes and he refused to have a bath unless it was Jane who was with him in the bathroom. And it took some time to explain to him that Jane was tired and that she couldn't be with him because she needed to lie down for a moment.

"But I wanna mummy!"

"Hamish, go to the bathroom right now," said Sherlock with both hands on his hips.

"Mummy!"

"Jane's tired. I'll help you with your bath."

"Mummy," insisted Sherlock.

"Go to the bathroom."

Hamish took a deep breath and let endless tears go out his blue eyes. "I wanna mummy!" cried him with all his strength.

Sherlock let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. It was the first time Hamish was not doing as he had been told and the young detective didn't know what to do. Being a father had been easy. Until now.

"I wanna mummy! Mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy!"

"C'mon, Hamish," said Jane, stepping into the kitchen and taking Hamish' hand. "I'll help you with your bath."

"Jane, you can't -"

"It's okay," reassured Jane and went to the bathroom where she helped Hamish with his bath.

During dinner everything went fine. Hamish ate on his high chair and didn't complain for his veggies. The problems started once he had to go to bed.

"No!"

"Hamish, time to go to bed," said Jane, tiredly.

"No! Wanna s-stay!"

Sherlock sat with Hamish on his lap next to Jane. "Hamish, Jane and the baby are very tired," said Sherlock softly as he caressed Jane' pregnant bump. "And they need to go to sleep. But they need you to go to bed first -"

"No!"

Sherlock looked at Jane. "How did you deal with this before?"

"He never had this tantrums," said Jane, yawning. "I don't know what's got into him. Must be the new baby."

"How can he ever be jealous if the baby hasn't even born?"

"I don't think he's jealous. Maybe Hamish can feel the new baby."

"Feel the baby?"

Jane nodded, tiredly. "Some people say children can sense or feel babies."

Sherlock turned to Hamish. "Go to bed."

"No!" said Hamish, stubbornly.

"Go to bed."

"No!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. And Jane just giggled. "I think I'll call Mycroft," said Sherlock as he took his phone in his hands and pretended to be calling his brother. "And I'll tell him there's a little child who doesn't want to go to bed..."

Jane giggled. "Mycroft? Seriously?"

Hamish looked a bit frightened.

"Hello Mycroft? Hamish doesn't want to go to bed and Jane and I are very tired..." said Sherlock, faking a friendly tone of voice and pretending to be talking to Mycroft. "I was wondering if you wanted to come and stay with him -"

"No! No! Uwcle Mycrow no!"

"Why is he afraid of Mycroft?"

Sherlock took Hamish upstairs. The little boy finally did as he had been told and went to bed.

"Hamish's not afraid of Mycroft. He doesn't like him. Marvellous news," said Sherlock, once back in the sitting room and helping Jane to get to her feet. "Now time to go to bed, love."

Jane had fallen asleep as soon as she rested her head on her pillow.

But a few hours later, when Sherlock felt a hand shaking his arm, he woke up and felt Jane's lips on his.

"Sherlock... Sherlock, wake up," whispered Jane.

Sherlock yawned and turned on the lights of his bedside lap. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I want ice cream."

"What?" asked Sherlock, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palms.

"I want ice cream."

Sherlock looked for his slippers and went to the kitchen. He opened the door and found a Ben & Jerry's pot. He took a spoon and went back to his room, where Jane was already sitting on the bed, eagerly waiting for him. He handed her the ice cream and the spoon and lay on the bed next to her. He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep again.

But soon Jane was shaking his arm again.

"Sherlock..."

"Mmm?"

"I want ice cream."

He opened his eyes. "That's ice cream."

"No," said Jane, licking her lips. "I want chocolate ice cream."

"We don't have chocolate ice cream."

Jane pouted. "But I want chocolate ice cream."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a moment. He just stared at the ceiling thinking if Jane was being serious or not.

"Please, I want chocolate ice cream," insisted Jane.

Sherlock looked for his slippers (again) and went downstairs and knocked on Mrs Hudson's door. The old landlady opened the door several minutes after and looked at Sherlock worriedly. "Sherlock? It's half past three - Oh, is Jane okay?"

Sherlock yawned. "Do you have chocolate ice cream?"

"Chocolate ice cream? No dear, why are you asking? Is it for an experiment?"

"Jane wants chocolate ice cream."

Mrs Hudson smiled sleepily. "There's a shop two streets from here, it's open all night. Why don't you go there? I'm sure they sell ice cream."

In less than ten minutes, Sherlock was back with chocolate ice cream. When he opened the door of his room, he found Jane waiting for him with an eager look on her face.

"Thank you, love," said she as she started eating her ice cream.

Sherlock just lay next to her and fell asleep as soon as his head was on the pillow.

* * *

The following morning, Hamish woke both of his parents asking for milk and pancakes. And he wanted his breakfast now.

"Mmm," mumbled Jane. "Hamish, it's seven in the morning. Go back to sleep."

Hamish pounted. "I wanna pacak's!"

"Baby, please... go to bed."

"But mummy..."

Sherlock sat on the bed and started looking for his slippers. "Hamish, go to the kitchen and wait there. I'll make pancakes."

"You can't cook pancakes," mumbled Jane, sleepily while Hamish ran to the kitchen.

Sherlock cuddled her and kissed her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not feeling well."

"Should I call a doctor?" asked Sherlock, very worried.

"No... I'm just tired," said Jane with a smile. "God, Sherlock, you were amazing last night."

They started kissing, but soon they heard Hamish' screaming and asking for milk and pancakes. "As much as I love staying here with you, I'm afraid we have a son who's desperate for pancakes," said Sherlock, covering Jane's body with their duvet and putting on his dressing gown.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned. "Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"I want pancakes too," said Jane, with a very sweet smile on her face.

* * *

One day Sherlock had to deal with a three year old throwing a tantrum and a crying pregnant woman.

At the same time.

"Eat your food, Hamish."

"No!" said Hamish stubbornly. He was going through a phase in which he didn't like veggies. "No, no, no!"

Sherlock started to pick up things from Hamish' plate. "If you don't eat them I'll do it."

Hamish laughed.

"It's not supposed to work that way!" snapped Sherlock. "Eat your food."

"No!"

"This is so good," said Jane. "Can't believe you can cook."

Sherlock smiled briefly and went back to Hamish. "Hamish, eat your food right now."

"No!"

"There's not going to be cake if you don't eat your lunch."

His eyes lit up. "Wanna cake daddy..."

Sherlock shook his head. "Eat your lunch and you'll have cake."

"Is there more food?" asked Jane, eagerly.

"Yes, just -"

"Wanna cake!" cried Hamish, hitting the table with his fists.

Sherlock tried to stop him. "Hamish -"

"Sherlock, is there more food?"

"Wanna cake!"

"STOP!"

While Hamish stopped hitting the table with his little fists asking for cake, Jane's eyes were full of tears.

"You," said Sherlock placing Hamish' food close to him. "Eat your food. Now." Then, he turned to Jane. "And you -"

Jane was a mess of tears when she ran to their room and slammed the door shut.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A toddler and a pregnant woman was not a good mix. Hamish was throwing a lot of tantrums lately and he seemed to be testing Sherlock now that he was the one who was looking after him most of the day because Jane was tired and she had to lie down. And Jane was close to the fourth month into her pregnancy and while Sherlock could deal with her cravings, the sex and some mood swings, the hormonal change was new. Now Jane would cry for anything.

"Daddy... no hungry..." whispered Hamish, sensing Sherlock's mood.

He helped Hamish off his chair and let him play with his toys, and then went to his room where he found Jane crying on their bed.

"Love, what's wrong?"

Jane sniffed. "You're angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you."

"Yes you are."

"I'm not angry," said Sherlock, softly. "Hamish is throwing his first tantrums and you're just hormonal."

"I'm sorry."

Sherlock smiled and pulled her closer. "You did nothing wrong. Want to go back to the kitchen and eat more lunch?"

"No... can I have cake?"

"You can have," said he as he caressed her pregnant bump and kissed her lips. "All you want."


	59. Baby Kicks and Daddy Proposes

"Look at you, you're all a little man now," said Lestrade as he took Hamish' hand and then turned to Sherlock. "What are you doing here? Thought you wouldn't take cases till the baby's born."

Sherlock sat in front of Lestrade's desk and looked around the office, avoiding Greg's gaze. "Jane kicked us out of the flat."

"What?"

"She says we are too loud -"

"Mummy says... daddy nawty," said Hamish, giggling.

Lestrade smiled at Hamish's attempt to say 'naughty'. "What did you do?"

"I did nothing!"

"Daddy nawty!"

Lestrade seemed to be thinking when his eyes lit up and laughed. "You didn't say anything about her body, did you?" asked Lestrade, suspiciously.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Jane had been complaining because her jeans were far too tight and her tees and shirts didn't fit anymore. When Sherlock suggested getting new clothes, Jane burst into tears and kicked him out of the house.

"And why is Hamish here?"

"I've been to my parents house. They wanted to meet him."

Lestrade knew about Sherlock' parents. He did not only know about their wealthy life, but also about what happened when they were told by Mycroft Jane's baby was not Sherlock's. They did not visited her and never asked to meet Hamish. They didn't even care for Jane once Sherlock had to be taken to the States to get clean. And Richard and Elizabeth Holmes tried to keep Sherlock away from Jane, but no matter what they did, Sherlock gave up his own inheritance and returned to Baker Street and to Jane's arms.

* * *

Elizabeth Holmes hugged him tightly as soon as he stepped into the house. Behind her was Richard, waiting to shake hands with his son, a sincere touch that was not as close or intimate as Elizabeth's hug, but it was something they had always done. It was the way Sherlock and his father got close.

Seeing their son for the first time after years, now healthy, clean and carrying a young boy in his arms made Elizabeth and Richard Holmes realise they had made a mistake.

The day Sherlock told his parents Jane was pregnant, he got two disapproving looks. His mother immediately told him to get married because of 'what people will say'. Richard Holmes was not happy; his youngest was to have a baby when he was still in school, when he was still yet to experience a lot of things. Richard wanted Sherlock to go to Oxford as Mycroft, as he had gone too and as all the previous Holmes men and women.

Sherlock had always been the exception. When Sherlock was seven, he asked for a skull for Christmas while his older brother, at that same age, asked for a trendy action man. At the age of thirteen, Sherlock started 'experimenting'. While at that same age both Elizabeth and Richard knew Mycroft had been 'experimenting' on himself, Sherlock at the age of thirteen was experimenting with dead rats, frogs and chemicals. Among those cases, both Elizabeth and Richard were as much surprised the day Sherlock told them he had a girlfriend and that she was pregnant as the day Mycroft told them Sherlock was spending most of his afternoons at one of his classmates' house. What worried them the most was not the fact Jane Watson' neighbours seemed to be scared by their fake moaning (as teenagers they liked to scare people, apparently). What worried Elizabeth and Richard the most was the fact their youngest chose  _her_  to be his friend when they knew Sherlock had always been a shy, solitary boy.

"This is my son, Hamish," said Sherlock confidently.

Both of his parents noticed that and both smiled at the little boy, whose curious eyes were on them and on their big sitting room.

"What a beautiful boy. Hello Hamish."

Hamish didn't say anything, he just stared at both grown ups with white hair in front of him wearing expensive clothes he had ever seen anyone wearing before. He pressed a hand to his right ear and then looked at Sherlock, clueless.

"Say hello, Hamish."

"Hello..."

Richard stepped forward and took Hamish' little hand. "Hello there."

"Daddy... wanna go 'ome," whispered Hamish.

"As soon as these people here say what they want to say we'll go," explained Sherlock to his son and then turned to his parents. "I'd be deeply thankful if you could please finish with this. It's time he had his milk."

Elizabeth looked at his husband and then to his son. "Come and sit with us. Hamish, do you want milk?"

"Milk!"

A maid appeared and placed a tea tray with tea and cookies for three and a plastic mug with milk for Hamish. Sherlock sat the toddler on his lap and helped him with his milk. Such a thing Sherlock was already used to, having Hamish on his lap while helping him to drink his milk calmly was something both of his parents found so new. Seeing his youngest, now a man, a grown man with a child on his lap and drinking milk, it was something they never thought they could relate him to.

"He looks a lot like you despite you're not his father," said Richard. His words were sincere, yet he didn't want to cause any harm by them, but Sherlock seemed to have got the opposite idea.

Sherlock was so expecting that comment. He knew his parents wanted him back, and that they were willing to accept him and Hamish as his son and Jane as his girlfriend if it meant he was going to be in touch again. But when Sherlock got that text from Mycroft saying their parents wanted to see him, Sherlock knew they had a reason.

And that reason was the new baby coming.

When he told them years ago that Jane was pregnant both of his parents supported him. And they did say that because a Holmes was on the way. How come a Holmes could ever be born into nothing? That's why they wanted him to marry Jane. When they knew Hamish was not his, but the son of a previous relationship Jane had, they left her alone when Sherlock had to leave Jane to get clean and for her own safety.

Now that a baby was on the way, and that it was a Holmes, only because of blood because Sherlock considered Hamish as his no matter what, Sherlock knew his parents wanted to talk to him to persuade him to be close to them again.

"I'd appreciate if you don't say that in front of him," snapped Sherlock, a bit angrily.

Elizabeth forced a smile. "Please, Sherlock. I'm sure your father didn't mean -"

"No, please," said Sherlock, sarcastically. "Father said nothing but the truth. Despite not being my biological child he looks a lot like me."

"He's got your cheekbones," commented Richard and then added "We are not against you looking after him as if you were his biological father -"

"I do not only look after him as if I were his biological father. I'm raising and protecting this child because I'm his father and I love him. Now tell me what you want, I don't have all the time of the world. He's already missed his nap."

Elizabeth and Richard exchanged an awkward look. "We have been informed your girlfriend is expecting a child," said Richard, his eyes focused on Hamish and on his hearing aid.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft has been doing his homework then."

"We want to be present in your children's lives," said Elizabeth. "We are your parents and we have the right to meet our grandchildren."

"For your information mother, you have no rights."

Richard leaned forward. "That's not a way to talk to your mother, Sherlock."

"Then you'd better stop asking for rights you don't own and explain me why you left Jane and my son alone," said Sherlock, clenching his teeth.

Elizabeth looked at him. "We're sorry."

"You're sorry? He's got hearing and heart problems. If you have been there to help Jane when he was born, he wouldn't be like this now -"

"And what were we supposed to do, Sherlock? Your brother came here one day saying he had to take you to North America because you had overdosed and that you hit Jane," hissed Richard.

Hamish finished his milk and shook Sherlock's arm. "Daddy... wanna go 'ome. Wanna mummy."

"Why don't you say what you're thinking?" asked Sherlock to his parents, ignoring Hamish.

Elizabeth let the tears fell down her eyes. "We thought she was the one who pushed you into drugs -"

"And how could she have ever done that if there were chances of me hurting her?"

"Watch your tone, Sherlock -"

"I'm not a child anymore! I've got a family; two children and Jane. Stop treating me like a child."

Richard let out a deep sigh. "Sherlock, son, we are sorry."

"We are sorry, Sherlock. We are very sorry."

Sherlock ignored their parent's apologise. "Why do you want to meet my children? You never cared about Hamish until now."

"We are your parents, Sherlock. I know what is to expect for a baby, so does your father. We made a mistake. But we apologised. We want to meet our grandchildren.  _Your_  children, Sherlock," whispered Elizabeth.

Hamish was clueless. He had no idea what was happening and why there were two old people sitting in front of him with tears in their eyes. He got off the sofa and walked towards them and kissed Elizabeth's wet cheek. "No cry... are-are you sawd?"

Elizabeth smiled at him tenderly. "I'm a bit sad."

"Sherlock, please. Forgive us," said Richard.

After a few seconds looking at his son talking to his mother, Sherlock looked at both of his parents in the eye. "I need you to promise you'll be there if something happens to me."

Elizabeth frowned. "Are you ill?"

"I'm clean. But if something happens to me, I need to know you'll be there for Jane and both of my children."

Both Elizabeth and Richard assured Sherlock they would always be there for Jane and his children, as well as Mycroft, who had more power than them.

"Hamish, they are Elizabeth and Richard. They are my parents," explained Sherlock.

"Your mummy and your daddy?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, they are my mother and my father. They are like Nan Hudson and Grandpa Greg."

"You can call me Nan Lizzie."

"And I'm Grandpa Richard."

Hamish smiled. "Nan Lizz-zzie and Grappa Riward."

Both Elizabeth and Richard laughed. "Who are 'Nan Hudson' and 'Grandpa Greg'?" asked Elizabeth, taking Hamish in her arms.

"My landlady and Detective Inspector Lestrade. They are like parents to Jane."

"Mycroft told us Suzanne Watson has not been in touch since Hamish was born."

Sherlock nodded. "She left Jane when she told her the circumstances of our marriage and Hamish' conception."

"Then please, Sherlock, let us be close to our grandchildren," said Elizabeth.

"I need to discuss it with Jane."

* * *

Jane kissed his lips and lay next to Sherlock on their big bed. "Dad sent me a text saying you and Hamish solved all the cold cases he had."

Sherlock spent the whole afternoon with Hamish at Lestrade's office and as he didn't know where to take Hamish until they could go back home. During that time, he solved most of the cold cases Greg had while Hamish drew pictures for Lestrade.

"I visited my parents."

"Really?"

Sherlock nodded. "Mycroft told me they wanted to see me."

"That's good. You should be close to your parents."

"Why?" asked Sherlock.

"Because they're alive and they love you. At least they wanted to see you, you know."

Sherlock kissed her forehead tenderly, feeling some tears were to come soon. "They wanted to meet Hamish. Mycroft told them about the new baby too."

"Did they like Hamish?"

"Yes. They want to be close to both of our children."

"I'm happy they want to be close. Did they say anything about, you know, Hamish?"

Sherlock nodded. "They didn't say it, but they want me to give him my name."

"You don't need to."

"But I want to."

"Do you?" asked Jane, looking into Sherlock's eyes. "Do you want to adopt Hamish?"

"Of course. He's my son. He's to have my name. Or you don't want me to?"

"No, no. Of course I want to. Just... don't get me wrong, but it will be better. And in case something happened to me -"

"Why would I get you wrong?" asked Sherlock. "Nothing will happen to you."

Jane bit her lip. "Sherlock, I know your parents think I'm an opportunist. You're Sherlock Holmes and I'm just... Jane Watson. I'm no one and you own half of this country."

"They don't think you're an opportunist. You've been with me always, when I was ill and now that I'm fine. An opportunist wouldn't have done that."

She smiled. "I love the idea they want to be close to our babies."

"Jane, don't cry."

"I wish... I wish my father was here to see Hamish and the new baby growing up," confessed Jane. "And my mother too. I wish I could talk to her, tell her how much I miss her."

Sherlock placed a hand on her pregnant bump. "I'm sorry, love."

"It was my fault. I should have told her the truth from the beginning. I needed her so much... when I was alone with Hamish and he cried I didn't know what to do. I still need her," said she, pressing a hand over Sherlock's. "Sometimes I think how different my life is, now that I'm with you, with our children and I wish she was here with us. I wish she could meet Hamish."

"Hush, it's okay. I can go and talk to her if you want."

"No, she doesn't want to see me. It's okay," Jane sniffed. "But I'm not alone because I've got you, Hamish, Mrs Hudson and Greg. You're my family now."

Both were deeply kissing when Jane felt her baby kissing inside her. "Sherlock!"

"What? Are you in pain?"

Jane smiled and took Sherlock's hand and placed it on her stomach.

"It's kicking! The baby is kicking!"

Sherlock sat next to her and pressed both of his hands, feeling their baby kicking inside her. Both cried. Both cried for minutes while Sherlock kissed Jane's stomach.

"Our baby's kicking," said he.

"I just can't believe this. I never thought I'll be here with you again, waiting for another baby. I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too, Jane."

Jane was resting her head over Sherlock's chest, close to his heart. Sherlock placed an arm on the small of her back and took Jane's hand and both entwined their fingers.

"We used to sleep like this before, remember?"

Sherlock kissed her forehead. "Yes. When we were alone at your house."

"Why you never wanted to take the guests room?" asked Jane, really curious.

"Because I wanted to be close to you."

"You loved me then?"

"Yes," said Sherlock. "I loved you."

"When did you realise you loved me?"

"When we danced together at the prom party."

Jane sighed. "I wish I had known. Everything would have been so different."

"Don't say that."

Jane frowned. "Why?"

"Because then we would have never had Hamish," said Sherlock, kissing Jane's hand.

She nodded. "But... why you never told me?"

"I was afraid you would reject me."

"God, I had the man of my life in front of me, always, and I ignored you," admitted Jane.

"We're together now. We have a three year old child and another one on the way," whispered Sherlock. "And more will come."

"Oh, stop right there Sherlock Holmes!"

"We can try for more babies."

Jane smiled. "Of course we can try. But we'll have to see how we deal with two children. And the flat is not that big."

"We can make it bigger."

"D'you really want more babies?"

Sherlock nodded. "We have to try for a little girl."

"You... you think it's a boy?"

"It's a boy. And the next one will definitely be a little girl. And she'll be as beautiful as her mother is."

"Don't get too excited," said Jane as she kissed Sherlock. "How may babies d'you want to have?"

"As many as we can make."

Jane giggled. "God, Sherlock! I think we'll have as many as I can conceive. My uterus is not that strong."

"You're strong."

"I wish I could give you all the children you want," whispered Jane.

Sherlock kissed her forehead. "We'll have them. You're strong."

* * *

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, holding a very much sleeping Hamish in his arms when he got to his limits. He took Hamish upstairs and placed him on his bed. When he returned, he found Jane still sitting on her armchair, reading a maternity book with a hand on her belly when he felt he couldn't take it anymore.

"Get me some."

"No."

"Get me some," insisted Sherlock.

"No."

"I need some. Get me some."

Jane shook her head. "No."

"Please, Jane. Please."

"No. Cold turkey, we've agreed no matter what. You can't smoke; it's not healthy for you. And you promised it, remember?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "Get me some. I'll smoke outside."

"No."

"Yoo-hoo!" said Mrs Hudson stepping in. "Are you feeling better, dear?"

Jane nodded. "Yes. The baby must be sleeping now because it hasn't kicked for a few hours."

The new baby kicked as much, or even more than Hamish used to do. Sometimes it kicked so much that Jane had to lie down for hours. And it hurt, it caused a lot of pain. And as Jane said when she was expecting Hamish, the new baby always kicked when its daddy was close because her heart beat faster.

Mrs Hudson looked at Sherlock sulking on the sofa and frowned. Jane gestured him to make some tea. "Why don't you have a cuppa with me, Sherlock? I've baked some -"

"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again."

"Pardon?"

Sherlock turned. "Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

Jane sighed. "Sherlock..."

"Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don't we?" said he as he got close to her to sniff her perfume. "'Kasbah Nights'. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website, you should look it up."

Mrs Hudson faked a smile. "Sherlock, please -"

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

Jane looked at Sherlock with angry eyes. "Sherlock!"

"Well, nobody except me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't," whispered Mrs Hudson as she left with tears in her eyes.

Jane put her book down _. "_ What the bloody hell was all that about?"

"Deductions."

"Go after her and apologise."

"Apologise?" asked Sherlock, as if Jane had asked him to go and kill someone.

"Yes."

"Oh Jane, I envy you. I envy you so much."

"You... envy me?"

Sherlock nodded. "Your mind, it's so placid, straight-forward. Your body, so calm and relaxed."

"D'you know what's to be pregnant; putting on weight even when you don't want to and having breasts pain? My skin is stretching to its limits, the baby kicks all the time, I've got a sore back, aching feet. I can't even go to the loo!"

When Jane exploded in tears, Sherlock crawled between her legs and caressed her belly. "Hush, I'm sorry."

"I'm just being silly."

"You're not being silly."

Jane shook her head. "I'm just... forget it."

"No, it's okay. Your body is changing, you're carrying a baby inside you. It's normal you feel this way. I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry if I made you feel upset."

"You did nothing, Sherlock."

Sherlock kissed her belly. "Sometimes I think I pushed you into this."

"Into what?"

"This," said Sherlock, placing both hands over her pregnant bump.

"Don't say that. We made this baby together, remember?"

Sherlock kissed Jane when he took her hand and kissed it. "Jane, will you marry me?"

"What?"

"Will you marry me?" repeated Sherlock. "Will you let me be your husband again and spend the rest of my life with you?"

Jane pressed her free hand to her belly and gasped. "Oh my God."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just... the baby's kicking again."

Sherlock helped to her feet and walked with her to their room, where he helped her to sit on the bed and put some pillows on her back. "Better?"

"No," said Jane, with some tears in her eyes. "It keeps kicking."

"I don't know what I should do -"

"Kiss me."

Jane grabbed Sherlock's shirt and kissed him fiercely. Their lips met in a very hungry, deep kiss. Soon Sherlock's hands were on her waist and Jane's on Sherlock's neck.

"Yes," said Jane.

"Yes? Yes, you're feeling better now or -"

Jane giggled. "Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and yes, I will marry you."


	60. Life is for Living?

After Sherlock had proposed, neither Sherlock nor Jane said anything about their wedding, or when it should take place. Jane just said they could get married soon before or after the baby was born and that she didn't want anything big, just a little dinner maybe, with Sherlock's parents, Mrs Hudson, Greg, their few friends and no one else. Sherlock suggested they should have the wedding of her dreams and all the things Jane couldn't have when they first got married, but then Jane insisted she didn't want anything big.

A few days later Jane went back to uni. The doctor told her she was fine, that her baby was very healthy and that she could go on with her life and go back to study. Despite the many ultrasounds Jane had got done, the doctors couldn't tell the gender of her baby. And like it happened with Hamish, they had to wait to see if it was a baby boy or a baby girl.

And, as Jane was back to uni, Sherlock was the one in charge of the flat and Hamish. As neither of them were working, Sherlock insisted Hamish should stay home instead of going to day care. Jane argued Hamish needed to socialize and learn, however, Sherlock promised her he would teach him and that he would take him to the park every day, or at least some times per week to have some fun with another kids his age. While Sherlock kept saying Hamish's teachers were boring, dull and not competent enough to deal with children, Jane knew Sherlock inwardly wanted to spend more time with Hamish, so she just let Sherlock look after him while she was studying.

So then, their every day routine would consist in them waking up early to have breakfast together; tea for Jane, milk for Hamish and coffee for Sherlock, plus juice, toasts and sometimes cookies. Then, Jane would go to class not without kissing Sherlock and Hamish goodbye and reminding Sherlock Hamish needed to drink and eat something every two or three hours and to keep and eye on him so he wouldn't touch the experiments over the table. And then Sherlock helped Hamish with his morning bath and then they would decide what to do together.

Whatever they did together, like doing silly and easy experiments, doing the shopping, helping Mrs Hudson with whatever she needed help with, watching films suitable for children and approved by daddy Sherlock, or simply reading to Hamish his favourite tales, Sherlock realised being a father was something he liked. It was something Sherlock loved; seeing Hamish learning new words, his laughter, sometimes throwing some tantrums, sometimes crying, or just simply enjoying himself made Sherlock understand how much he loved that boy. Hamish was a mix of him and Jane's everything; Hamish had Jane's fair hair, her blue eyes, her round nose and her thin lips. But Hamish also had Sherlock's cheekbones, his curly hair, his curious eyes and that stubbornness everyone said was Sherlock's.

Little did Sherlock care if Hamish was his or not. Little did Sherlock care if Hamish had nothing to do with him.

To Sherlock, Hamish had always been his. Since the moment Jane told him with tears in her eyes she could be pregnant and when he lay next to her on her bed, that night she cried in his arms for the first time since they had met, Sherlock placed a shy hand on her then flat stomach and promised, inwardly and to himself, that he was going to be by Jane's side, always. And even though Sherlock had been absent since the moment Hamish was born and for two years, and even when his actions 'forced' Hamish's birth, Sherlock was sure of his parenthood. Sherlock knew he had not been Jane's first man, and he did not conceived Hamish with her, he had not been the one whose seed made Hamish. But Sherlock, when he had Hamish sitting on his lap or sleeping on the crook of his arm as if he were a little baby, would not accept he was not Hamish's father. Listening to Hamish's soft breathing, looking at his closed eyelids, his blushed cheeks after running round the flat, his fair curls and his little fingers curled around his shirt, Sherlock realised there was the place where he belonged to and there was no place where he would want to go. And Hamish, the new baby coming and Jane were the three people he would always care about and he would always give his own life for.

"Daddy..."

Sherlock was lying on the sofa with Hamish sleeping next to him. The little boy was snuggling against his father's chest and was resting his head under the crook of his shoulder. Sherlock covered their bodies with an orange blanket and kissed Hamish' cheek. "Hush, it's time for your nap."

"Wanna daddy," whispered Hamish, sleepily.

Sherlock nodded and smiled at him. "Of course, baby. Let's have a nap and then we'll go to the park and wait for mummy, okay?"

Both fell asleep together. Sherlock had never been fond of naps, or even sleeping at night. But years ago, when Jane was pregnant and they were newlyweds, Sherlock started liking going to bed when Jane couldn't sleep unless he was next to her. For some reason Jane couldn't sleep if Sherlock was not there, and that was the moment when Sherlock realised sleeping at night, preferably next to the woman he loved was the best. And now Sherlock was very fond of naps, mostly if they included Hamish snuggling next to him and Jane too.

An hour later Hamish woke up and reminded his daddy they had to go to the park and wait for mummy.

"Park daddy! Park, park, park!"

Sherlock smiled. "Go and fetch your shoes."

Hamish returned from his room wearing his little trainers. Sherlock was putting on his jacket when he sat on the sofa with Hamish on his lap. He let a hand ran over Hamish's fair curls and kissed his forehead. "You're my baby and I'll always be your father. Always."

Hamish clapped his hands and laughed.

"Do you love me, Hamish?"

The toddler nodded. "Daddy Sherwock!"

"I wish I had been there when you were born. I wish I had seen you walking your first steps," said Sherlock as he hugged Hamish. "I'm so sorry, baby."

Hamish didn't say anything, he only looked at his daddy with confused eyes.

"But that won't happen to your brother. I promise."

"Daddy wanna park!"

Sherlock took Hamish's bag and then the little boy's hand. "Let's go!"

Every afternoon Sherlock took Hamish to the park where both waited for Jane to finish her classes. While Sherlock waited for Jane to come so he could carry her books and bag on the way back home, Hamish liked to run along the park, make new friends and play with kids his age. Despite his developmental delay, Hamish had progressed considerably and now he was not struggling with words anymore. Now he was growing healthily, and he was just like anyone else.

"Stay close where I can see you," said Sherlock as he helped Hamish with the lace of his trainers. "Jane should come soon."

"Play with me daddy!"

Sherlock shook his head. "I can't. Lestrade needs these cold cases to be solved otherwise people will think he's far more incompetent than he already is."

Hamish looked at his daddy confused. "Grandpa Gweg icopen... incopeten'?"

"Yes. Grandpa Greg is incompetent. Though do not repeat that last word," corrected Sherlock.

Hamish had always called Greg 'Grandpa' or 'Papa', but now that his speech was improving, Greg Lestrade was 'Grandpa'. Jane every now and then called him 'dad', and she even joked Sherlock had to call him that way too. But to Sherlock, Greg would always be just 'Lestrade'.

"Now go and play with your ball and stay close, okay?"

Hamish ran to play with a group of children just a couple of feet away from his daddy. Sherlock sat on a bench and looked how his son joined a group of children his age and started playing football. Sherlock chuckled, there was no doubt Hamish liked sports and that he was going to be good at it in the future. Hamish had been kicking since he was inside Jane and now not only in the park but also in Baker Street, breaking a few glasses and some other things.

The park was not as crowded as always. Sherlock took some files from inside Hamish' bag and started reading, waiting for Jane to finish her classes and join them as she always did.

Jane joined him after fifteen minutes or so. "Easy case?" asked she, sitting next to Sherlock and giving him a quick peck on his lips.

"Terribly boring and predictable. Lestrade said he was giving me these cases to solve during my paternity leave. Can't wait that longer," explained Sherlock.

"Dad was joking, I'm sure," said Jane, smiling. "You won't need to be at home twenty-four-seven when the new baby comes."

"But I want to. I want to do all the things I wasn't able to do when Hamish was born."

"Will you change nappies?"

"Yes," replied Sherlock.

Jane laughed. "Well, you'll do that an I'll breastfeed him."

Sherlock placed a hand on her pregnant bump. "Had a good day, love?"

"Yeah. Everyone wants to touch my belly. They say it gives them luck for the exams," commented Jane. "God, they have set up a 'baby pool' and the whole class are discussing the baby's gender! Bill says it's going to be a boy."

"It's going to be a boy."

"How was your day?"

Sherlock kissed her. "We did some experiments, had lunch, watched a film and had a nap."

"Are you sure you want to look after Hamish while I'm in class? We can send him to day care, you know."

"Nonsense. I'm his father. I love being with him."

Jane smiled tenderly and kissed him. "Can we go home? I'm a bit tired. I need a hot bath."

Sherlock smiled. "Can I join you?"

"Of course," said she and then turned to see a group of children playing. "Where's Hamish?"

Sherlock looked at the couple of kids playing football. "He's..."

Hamish was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Hamish was kicking his ball with a group of three children his age when one of them kicked the ball and it passed between Hamish's legs, going a bit far away from where they were originally playing. Hamish ran after the ball, his eyes focused on it and not seeing where he was running to when he collided against a pair of legs. His eyes were focused on the ball, and he hardly spotted the tall man walking in front of him until he collided against him and fell to the floor.

"Ouch!"

The man knelt next to him and helped him to get to his feet and to look for his hearing air that fell off his ear to the floor. "Hey, are you okay?"

Hamish looked at the man with fair hair, green eyes and sharply dressed. "Y-Yes."

"Are you alone?"

"No. Daddy..." Hamish looked around, looking for Sherlock, but he couldn't see him and he started panicking. "Daddy!"

"Hey, calm down buddy," said the strange man as he raised Hamish so he could have a better look at the park and at the benches a few feet from them. "Can you see your daddy now?"

Hamish looked around as little tears started to fill his blue eyes when he saw Sherlock and Jane sitting together. "Daddy!" said Hamish, pointing with his index finger at the couple sitting together on a bench.

The strange man curled his lips upwards, just a bit, relieved the boy he had accidentally collided against and who seemed to be lost found his father. But when the man carrying Hamish turned to see the man Hamish was pointing at, he frowned confused. That man had dark curls, pale skin and alien features. And there was a woman sitting next to him. She had a short haircut and it was notorious she was pregnant. And it was obvious she was his partner because they were holding hands. And both looked alarmed. Both were looking for that little boy he had in his arms.

"That's your daddy?"

Hamish nodded.

"And who's that woman?"

"Mummy."

The man turned and looked at Hamish from head to toes. Soon he placed him on the floor and walked two steps backwards to take a better look.

Sam Sawyer looked at Hamish and shook his head, thinking how small the world was. And about his luck, because a few days after he had returned to England, he had to walk past a park, and he had to ran into a little boy. And that little boy was no one but his own son.

The son he had always pretended not to have.


	61. Along with Fear

"That's your daddy?"

Hamish nodded. "Daddy Sherwock."

"And who's that woman?"

"Mummy."

The man turned and looked at Hamish from head to toes. Soon he placed him on the floor and walked two steps backwards to take a better look.

Sam Sawyer looked at Hamish and shook his head, thinking how small the world was. And about his luck because a few days after he had returned to England, he had to walk past a park, and he had to ran into a little boy. And that little boy was no one but his own son.

The son he had always pretended not to have.

Sam looked into Hamish's eyes. The little boy had blueish eyes. His nose was round, he had a pair of slightly pronounced cheekbones and thin, pink lips. He had soft, wild fair curls and he was short, little to be a three year old boy. He looked a lot like Jane. But Sam wondered where this little boy had taken those curls and those cheekbones from. Both he and Jane had fair, straight hair. But this boy had curls. And he also had a hearing aid. And the developmental delay was not only physically clear; the little boy struggled with words.

* * *

"Where's Hamish?"

"He was just here!" said Sherlock.

Jane tried not to panic. "Are you sure he was here?"

"Yes! He was playing with his ball here and -"

"Jane," said a man, cutting Sherlock off. He was carrying Hamish in his arms.

He was Sam Sawyer.

* * *

Sam saw them panicking, an obvious reaction. Every parent should panic after the sudden absence of his/her child. It was something Sam expected from Jane. But not from Sherlock Holmes.

To Sam Sawyer, Sherlock Holmes had always been the annoying friend who liked to send texts and call his then girlfriend Jane every time they were busy, and by busy, Sam meant having sex or just making out. Jane's mobile phone would always interrupt them - Sherlock Holmes would always interrupt them.

He hated Sherlock Holmes. He didn't like how much Jane talked about him, about how clever he was, about his violin, about his tobacco ashes... Who cares about tobacco ashes? Sam had always been clear about his opinion about Sherlock Holmes; he didn't like him and he never would. To him, Sherlock was a freak. And Sam couldn't understand why Jane liked him so much. Why she stood up for him so much.

Sam remembered having sex with Jane when her mobile went off. Jane wanted to check if it was Sherlock's text and if he was okay or if he needed her. That was the last thing Sam could stand. He remembered himself pounding into Jane, making her scream his name when he told her Sherlock was a freak, that he was a queer, that he would ever do what he was doing to her. When Jane told him to stop talking like that because Sherlock was her friend, Sam even thought about making Jane chose between him and Sherlock. But before that could had ever happened, Jane called him one day saying she hadn't had her period and that she thought she might be pregnant.

And Sam took a bag with his things and went back to the States, leaving before ever knowing if Jane was pregnant and expecting his child.

Jane had been an amusement. Sam had never been serious. Sam never loved her. Jane had only been the girl he had fun with and nothing else. Sam never thought about making her his former girlfriend. So when the suspicion of a baby was there, he left. Sam Sawyer was not going to take the responsibility. He was not going to take the responsibility, he was not going to marry Jane, give that baby his name and leave his promising future as a doctor in the States to stay in England and raise a baby he never wanted and never asked for.

Walking on the park just a few days after his arrival back to his country after getting his degree and becoming a doctor, Sam Sawyer knew the rumours he'd heard back in his old neighbourhood were true; Jane Watson gave birth to a boy a few months after he had left. Sam Sawyer was not stupid.

This boy was his.

And apparently Sherlock Holmes had had the guts to say Hamish was his son. And apparently Sherlock Holmes had also had the guts to get her pregnant.

Who would have thought so? thought Sam, while walking to meet Jane Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

"Jane," said Sam, cutting Sherlock off and looking at Jane with his piercing green eyes.

Jane only stared at him and dropped her bag.

* * *

No. No. No.

No.

It couldn't be him.

No.

Just... no!

Hamish ran to his mummy's legs and hugged her tightly. Jane froze. She was suddenly speechless and unable to articulate a word. She suddenly felt breathless and for a moment, she felt her heart beating fast, pretty fast.

Jane was speechless.

But Sherlock stepped forward and took her hand.

"It's been a while," said Sam, with a mix between American and British accent.

Jane just stared at the man in front of her, at Sam Sawyer, who looked as she remembered him; tall, pale skin, bright green eyes and fair, straight hair. But he was different; he didn't look like a young, careless young man anymore. He looked like a man.

Sam Sawyer was the man Jane didn't want to see again.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sherlock, sharply. "What are you doing with _my_ son?"

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"What's your name, buddy?" asked Sam, ignoring Sherlock's questions and brushing Hamish's fair curls with his hand, trying to be friendly and affectionate, but anyone could have seen he was forcing that smile and faking friendliness.

"Hamish."

"Lovely name. I'm Sam," said he, taking Hamish' hand.

Sherlock stepped between Hamish and Sam. "Don't touch him!"

"Just found him, he seemed to be lost," said Sam. "You should pay more attention, you know. Good bye, Hamish. Be careful next time," said Sam, smiling at the little boy and walking away from them.

* * *

Jane closed her eyes.

"It's been a while."

Very deep inside her, Jane still remembered that phone call.

_"Sam, I need to see you. We need to talk."_

_"About what?"_

_"I - I haven't had my period... I think I might be pregnant. I'm not sure."_

_"I'll see you tomorrow."_

Sam finished the call. And Jane knew nothing about him since then.

Four years ago.

* * *

They couldn't sleep that night. Jane was lying on her side of the bed, with her back to Sherlock, crying. She still couldn't believe _he_ was back. Jane feared Sam was back to claim Hamish as his son, that he wanted to take him away from them and all her dreams of having a family with Sherlock were shattering. Jane's dreams of having a family with Sherlock, Hamish and her new baby were practically on the floor, and Jane felt destiny was against them again. Jane thought Sam would never be back. She thought they could just forget he's ever existed, and that she and Sherlock would keep Hamish' biological father existence in the shadows, that it would be a secret.

But Sam Sawyer was back.

And Hamish had the right to know the truth.

Sherlock buried his face into her neck and placed an arm on her waist pulling Jane closer. "Don't cry."

"I'm scared."

"Don't be."

"What if he takes Hamish away from us?" asked Jane, worriedly, and still crying.

Sherlock's grip on her baby bump tightened as he caressed her skin, trying to feel their baby. "I won't let him. Hamish is ours. He's our son, not his."

"He's Hamish' biological father. He has rights."

"Hamish is ours," repeated, insisted Sherlock, softly, kissing Jane's ear. "And I won't let him take our baby away from us. I promise."

Jane tossed to face Sherlock. "Hamish has rights too."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hamish has the right to know Sam is his real father."

It was true. It was a sad true Sherlock had to admit. And it felt like a bullet going through his heart.

"Do you want Hamish to know Sam Sawyer is his father?"

"Sherlock -"

"He's not his father! Just because he impregnate you it doesn't give him the right to be called Hamish' father. He wasn't there when Hamish' heart started beating, was he? Or when he was born or when he was just a baby -"

"Neither were you, Sherlock." Sherlock caught his breath. He looked away so Jane wouldn't look at the tears in his eyes."You weren't there when Hamish was born, or when he was just a little baby."

Jane was saying the truth. When she first heard Hamish' heartbeats, he had been away to Korea. And when Hamish was born and when he was a little baby, he was getting himself clean far away from him.

"I'll never be good enough for you and Hamish."

Jane tried to reach out Sherlock's arm ."Sherlock -"

"No, you're right. Hamish has the right to know Saw Sawyer is his father," said Sherlock, sarcastically, but clearly hurt. "But I'm far more a father to Hamish than he could ever be. I've always been Hamish's father since the moment you even doubted whether you were pregnant or not. Hamish kicked inside you because of _me_! He calls _me_ 'daddy', not _him_! He loves _me_!" hissed Sherlock, with tears in his eyes.

"You don't understand -"

"Yes, I understand. I know how you feel; I'm not Hamish's real father, I'm just your boyfriend. I'm not and I'll never be good enough to be his father," whispered Sherlock, with tears in his eyes.

Jane got off the bed and walked until she was standing in front of Sherlock and hugged him tightly, pressing not only her arms around Sherlock's neck but her baby bump against his stomach. "How can you say that?" asked Jane, sobbing. "How can you even think you're not Hamish's father?"

"You do. You think I'm not good enough for you and him."

"Sherlock, you're all we want. _I_ love you, Hamish loves you. You know that. _I_ know that. Don't think... not even for a second you're not a daddy, because you are. You're Hamish's daddy and you'll always be."

"He doesn't need to know," said he, kissing her softly. "I can make him disappear, I can kill him - whatever you want, I'll do it. Hamish doesn't need to know about _him_."

"No, Sherlock. I don't want you to kill him. I want you to help us," explained Jane. "We'll sort this out, but understand Hamish has rights, okay? I know it's unfair, but he has rights."

Sherlock shook his head. "I'll kill him."

"No, Sherlock... stop. You won't kill anyone -"

"I must prove you I'm man enough to protect you and Hamish."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jane, confusedly. "You don't need to prove me anything. You're the only man I want. You're the only one I'll ever want," said Jane, pulling at Sherlock's tee and then at his pants. "God, you are all I want, Sherlock."

Jane fell over Sherlock and kissed him passionately. Once they were naked, in each other's arms, Sherlock looked into her blue eyes. "Am I?"

"Yes. I want you to make love to me..." said she, and bit his lower lip. "Make love to me all night long."

"You're mine."

Jane nodded as she felt Sherlock filling her again, taking her hard. "I'm yours."

Sherlock closed his eyes as he felt himself inside Jane. Such thing many people considered normal, something that shouldn't be important, was everything to Sherlock. Being so close to Jane, in such an intimate way was their connection. Making love was the connection they had. Their nights loving each other and pleasing their needs was not only a carnal act, but it was their way to connect to each other and feel each other's love. Sherlock knew Jane's body, inch by inch and Jane knew his body inch by inch as well. Both knew what they liked, but they didn't like.

Both knew how to love each other. And both knew they had always been bound to each other's arms, to each other's bodies and to each other's lives.

"No one ever made you feel like I do."

"No one," said Jane, as she felt his soft curls against her neck. "You're the only one who can ahhhh... make me feel, ahhhhh, like this."

"Say my name," panted Sherlock, as the grip on Jane's hips tightened. He was close. "Say you love me."

They were spooning. It was one of the few positions they could try since Jane's pregnant bump was big now and since she didn't have the strength to lie in any other position.

"I - ahhhh, I love you Sher- Sherlock."

When Jane felt herself filled with Sherlock's seed she kissed him tenderly on his lips and rested her head on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeats and his lungs within his chest.

"I love you, Jane. I won't let him take our baby. I promise."

She nodded. "I know."


	62. Facing the Truth

"Hello Mycroft," said Jane greeting his brother-in-law and offering a chair and coffee.

Mycroft sat next to Jane and Hamish and in front of his little brother. "Hello Hamish, Sherlock."

"Uncle Mycrowt!"

Mycroft curled his lips and turned to Jane. "How's the baby, Jane?"

"Fine! Very healthy. It kicks a lot, though."

"Just like Sherlock used to do. I remember Mummy complaining Sherlock kicked all night long, not letting her sleep at all."

Jane smiled. "Well, the baby doesn't kick that much. Just when Sherlock's around."

"Good. That's good, isn't it?"

"Well, I've to go to class. It was good to see you, Mycroft," said Jane, taking her bag. "Enjoy your breakfast with Sherlock and Hamish!"

"It was lovely to see you, Jane. Hope you have a good day."

Jane giggled and kissed Sherlock goodbye with a quick peck on his lips and a soft kiss to Hamish' forehead. Then, she stopped in front of Mycroft. "Well... goodbye- oh, come 'ere!" said Jane as she kissed Mycroft's cheek cheerfully and left.

"Stop flirting with my wife!"

Mycroft curled his lips. "So when should we expect the happy announcement?"

"We haven't discussed the wedding details yet."

"Should it be soon if you want to give Hamish your name before someone else claims him as his."

Sherlock looked to his brother in the eye for the first time since he had arrived. "Spying on us again?"

"It's for your own safety, believe me," said Mycroft, sipping more of his coffee.

"Daddy want more milk!"

Sherlock poured more milk into Hamish's plastic mug and sat him on his lap, something that had become sort of a thing very common for him to sit his son on his lap and help him to drink his milk.

"Uncle Mycrowt wanna milk?" asked Hamish innocently, offering Mycroft his mug.

Mycroft shook his head politely. "No, thank you very much. Your mother's coffee is delicious."

"Get your own wife!"

Hamish laughed and Sherlock started sulking when Mycroft cleared his throat. "I'm merely complimenting on your wife's cooking skills."

"I need to ask you a favour."

"I'm all ears," said Mycroft as he watched his brother patting Hamish' back softly after the toddler had choked on his milk.

Sherlock took a deep breath before talking. He had considered this for days, and seeing Jane crying and feeling his own despair growing within his chest, Sherlock had to accept he needed Mycroft's help. Even if for him it was the most humiliating thing to do, Sherlock would always prefer to get down to his knees and beg Mycroft for help if only it meant Jane wouldn't cry anymore and that Hamish would always be with them.

"I need you to pull some strings and make Sam Sawyer disappear from this country. From this planet would be marvellous."

Mycroft curled his lips. "Why haven't you done it yourself?"

"I'd have done it myself if it wasn't for Jane who keeps saying Hamish has the right to know Sam Sawyer is his biological father."

"She's right, I'm afraid," said the older Holmes, examining his fingernails. "Though, Doctor Sam Sawyer has nothing to do with Hamish. He can't even suggest the colour of those hideous jumpers Jane insist Hamish should wear."

Sherlock frowned. "He can't say Hamish is his son?"

"Not at all. Have you seen Hamish birth certificate?"

"No."

"Well, Jane has written 'Father Unknown'. Dr Sawyer has no say at all over what happens to Hamish since he's not recognised by the law as the boy's father."

The young Holmes seemed to considerate this for a moment. "Either away, I want him to disappear from this planet."

"I don't really think that will be necessary, dear brother."

"Why? Your secret service would be pleased to burn a dead body and spread the ashes on the Thames. He will be hardly missed."

Mycroft shook his head. "Dr Sawyer has no intention whatsoever to take Hamish with him. He doesn't even want to see him again for the remain of his own life."

* * *

"I'll take it your hubby doesn't know you're here."

Jane bit her lip. "I didn't come here to talk about my personal life."

"Then?" asked Sam, arrogantly.

"I'm here to talk about Hamish."

"What about him?"

Jane could have swore Sam was doing it on purpose. She even glanced at the gold ring on his fourth finger. Sam was married. "He's your son."

"Are you sure he's mine? He doesn't look like me at all," was all Sam Sawyer said, coldly.

"How dare you!" said Jane, angrily.

Sam put his hands on the air. "Listen, Jane, you knew I wasn't serious. And you knew I was studying in the States and that I was only staying in England for the Summer. It wasn't my fault."

"I thought you loved me."

"We were young, it was a mistake okay?"

"You left me alone!" hissed Jane.

He shrugged. "I can't go back in time, can I?"

"Even if you could, you'd do the same; you'd leave me alone again," said Jane, bitterly.

Sam sipped more of his coffee and leaned forward with a dangerous look on his face. "There you're wrong. I would do what I should have done; made you abort that child. He should never have been born."

* * *

"Dr Sawyer is married to the daughter of an important politician in the United States. He's a recently graduated doctor and he will have, shall we say, a very promising career if everything goes according to his plans."

Sherlock sat Hamish on his lap. "His plans?"

"He's got a clean record. He's the son of a very important doctor here, he'd built an image of himself. But having a son out of marriage with an unknown young woman would only make things difficult to him if he wants to lay his hands on the massive bank account of his wife after she gives birth to what he says will be his _first_ child," explained Mycroft.

"He's planning to give up his rights over Hamish."

Mycroft nodded. "He has no rights over him, legally speaking."

"What's he doing here then?"

Mycroft looked how his brother's hands holding Hamish's, the way the toddler kissed his father's cheek and the way Sherlock smiled at him and only to him every now and then. Who would have said Sherlock Holmes, the little boy who used to be cold and then grew up and got married to his classmate to save her and her baby and then went through a hell of drugs would be now looking after and loving a little three year old as if he had always been his real son?

"Look at you. Parenthood suits you fine."

* * *

Jane caught her breath. "How can you say that?"

"I've never wanted him, Jane."

"I know."

"Then I don't understand what are you doing here."

"I needed to know if you want to be part of Hamish' life," explained Jane, fighting some tears back. "You don't have any legal rights over him. Your name doesn't even figure on his birth certificate. But Hamish has the right to know the truth."

"I don't want to have anything to do with him," said Sam coldly. "That child is not my son."

* * *

Later Sherlock, Mycroft and Hamish migrated to the sitting room where Hamish was curled in his father's arms, looking at his uncle with curious eyes while sucking his thumb.

"Uncle Mycroft umbrella?" asked Hamish curiously, seeing Mycroft was not carrying an umbrella this time.

Mycroft curled his lips slightly. "Left it in the car."

"Daddy says you fat!"

"And I see you've been spoiling your son. I wonder what Jane will say about it."

Sherlock kissed Hamish' cheek. "Well done, Hamish. Now dear brother, will you stay for lunch? Jane comes early today. Maybe you'll be able to compliment on her cooking skills yourself."

And Mycroft was right. Parenthood suited Sherlock just fine.

* * *

"How can you say that? You - you know I've always been with you -"

Sam shook his head and chuckled sarcastically. "He's not my son. The _only_ son I'll ever have is the one my _wife_ is expecting. Who would've thought so? Never thought that freak will have the guts to get your pregnant," said Sam, pointing at Jane's baby bump.

That's the moment when Jane understood. She had been an amusement. She had never been Sam Sawyer's girlfriend. She had only been someone whom he can have some fun with. When he told her she was making love to her, it was all a lie. Sam only fucked her. He took her virginity lying to her, being nothing else but a damn liar.

However, Jane didn't regret her past. Because that meant she was also regretting Hamish, and Jane would never regret or hate her son. The only thing Jane regretted about her past was believing all those lies.

"You and that son of yours better stay away from me because you'll regret it."

Jane got up and looked at Sam Sawyer for the last time in her life. "Don't you dare to say anything like that again. Sherlock's not a freak, he's far better than you. And he's the man you'll never be."

The tears in Jane's eyes vanished as she remembered Hamish and Sherlock were waiting for her at home.

* * *

"Oh, you're staying for lunch then?"

Mycroft looked into her slightly bloodshot eyes, her hands, the curve of her neck, her jaw... Mycroft knew.

"Sherlock here has been commenting on your cooking skills and asked me to stay, hope you don't mind."

Jane giggled. "Not at all. I'd love to have lunch with my favourite brother-in-law."

"I'm your _only_ brother-in-law."

Sherlock sat with Hamish on his lap in the sitting room, ignoring Mycroft and Jane who were in the kitchen.

"Sorry about him," said Jane, chopping some veggies. "I think he gets more hormonal than me, and I'm the one pregnant!"

Mycroft curled his lips slightly. "He's worried."

"Can't imagine why -"

"He's worried because of Doctor Sam Sawyer."

Jane turned to face him and looked at the sitting room to make herself sure Sherlock was out of earshot. "He wants to kill him."

"Indeed."

"But Sam doesn't want to have anything to do with Hamish. He even... he doubts Hamish is his son." Mycroft nodded. "We don't need to worry. He doesn't want Hamish - He's ours."

Mycroft cleared his throat. "He already knows it."

"You told him."

"Yes. But you shall not underestimate a man's pride, let alone Sherlock's."

Jane frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Dear Jane, when Sherlock has something within his mind, it's quite hard to make him do and think otherwise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In England parents do not really have rights in relation to their children but the law relating to children states that a child has a right to a relationship with both parents (the question of whether one parent is unsuitable is something to be thrashed out in court on an individual basis). However, if the child has not yet been born you can seriously restrict the father's ability to have any control over the child or contact with them by placing "Father Unknown" in the relevant box on the birth certificate - doing this even when you know who the father is is not illegal. This effectively means he has no say at all over what happens to the child. If you put his name on the certificate you are legally obliged to consult him over every non-trivial matter of your child's life (education, religion, medical treatment, moving house and so on).


	63. Fighting for His Family

Doctor Sam Sawyer was visiting his father's surgery in his old neighbourhood. The offices and rooms were still the same, the building was the same and some doctors were new. There was a new secretary; she was a young girl, maybe in her last year of school who was wearing a nice tight skirt and her legs were long. Sam smiled at her as he leaned forward on her desk.

"Dr. Sawyer, there's a man who wants to see you," said she, flirtatiously.

He smiled. "Are you sure he wants to talk to me? I don't work here, maybe he wants to talk to my dad."

"He specified he wanted to see Dr. _Sam_ Sawyer."

Sam let out a long sigh and nodded. "OK. Once I finish, would you like to join me for lunch? I know a very lovely place a few streets from here. Everything on me," said he, successfully faking a charming American accent.

She smiled. "Sure."

Sam walked to the office. He got in and closed the door behind his back, not really paying any attention to the man sitting in front of his desk.

"Can I —what are you doing here?"

"I'm asking you the same. What are you doing here?"

Sam looked at him from head to toes. "What? Now I need to have your permission to visit my own family?"

"You work for a very important hospital in the States. You have been given a promotion you do not deserve not because you haven't worked hard for it but because you are a recently graduated doctor. Chief Resident? Oh, a position too high for your short career as a doctor. Has the father-in-law pulled strings for you? Of course. Why? Because he doesn't want his daughter to be married to a simple physician and because she is pregnant —"

"Sherlock Holmes, _The Freak_. You're just like I remember you, you know. You haven't changed at all, or have you?" said Sam, mockingly. "Oh, I can see someone has grown some guts. Congratulations are in order I suppose," said Sam.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Neither did you."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "What are you doing here?"

Sam walked and occupied a chair in front of his desk, opposite Sherlock Holmes. "There were rumours. And believe it or not, some of them crossed the ocean."

"That Jane gave birth to a boy a few months after you left."

"Yes."

"So what? So you came here to see Hamish and claim him as your son?"

Sam shook his head. "Not at all. Didn't she tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"She came here yesterday to ask me if I wanted to be part of that child of hers' life."

Sherlock's eyes were fixated on Sam's. Soon he deduced all he needed to know.

"You don't think he's your child," deduced Sherlock.

Sawyer nodded. "I have every right to doubt. That child is not my son. No child of mine is a _retarded_."

Sherlock got to his feet and grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt. Their faces were inches apart. Sherlock looked at him with angry, furious eyes and shoved him against the wall. "Don't you dare —"

"Jane was a slut. I bet you two fucked and I bet that retarded child is your son —"

"She's not a slut and Hamish is not retarded!" hissed Sherlock, angrily.

"OK then, retarded might not be the word. But," said Sam, chuckling. "You've got to admit Jane is a _slut_. You know she is," Sam looked into Sherlock's eyes and laughed sarcastically. "You should've seen her sucking my cock, begging for it, screaming my name asking me to fuck her harder —"

Sherlock punched him hard. Sam fell to the floor and pressed a hand to her bleeding lip. But he smiled at Sherlock's angry face. "I made her scream my name so many times in every position you can imagine. She liked to suck me off and swallow it all... does she do it to you too? She's pretty good at it, isn't she?"

"Shut up or you'll regret it," Sherlock warned him.

Nevertheless, Sam Sawyer wasn't going to stop. He was going to spit it on his face, he wanted Sherlock Holmes to suffer. "When she came here yesterday she looked so unsatisfied. I thought she would ask me to fuck her. You don't have what is needed to make her come, or do you? I bet she fakes it when she's with you... I bet she thinks of me because you can't fuck her like I did, can you? Can you make her feel like a woman, _freak_?" said Bill, mockingly.

* * *

"What is it, Hamish?" asked Jane, still reading her book when Hamish rested his head on her lap, close to her baby bump.

Hamish patted her baby bump. "Daddy Sherwock said this is baby."

"Yes, this is a baby," said she.

"No... daddy said baby."

Jane frowned. "Hamish, what is it? Can you explain to mummy what you want to say?"

"Daddy said baby. He said uncle Mycrowt I not baby."

"Well, you're a little boy now. You're not a baby anymore," tried to explain Jane with a smile. "I think that's what daddy wanted to say —"

Hamish shook his head. "Daddy said I not baby," then he pointed at her baby bump. "Dat baby. I not baby."

"Yes Hamish, you're a boy and here is a very little baby inside me—"

"No!" snapped Hamish with tears in his eyes.

Jane curled her lips, trying to smile reassuringly to her little son. "Okay, calm down, calm down," said she, closing her book and sitting Hamish on her lap. "Take a deep breath and tell mummy what you want to say."

Hamish nodded with tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath. "Daddy said I not baby."

Somehow, Jane knew what Hamish was trying to say, but she didn't want to admit it. "Daddy said... daddy said this is _his_ baby," said she, pressing a hand to her baby bump. "And that you're _not_ his baby?"

Hamish nodded.

And Jane let out some tears.

* * *

Sherlock grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall again. He punched him two times before stepping back and turning to leave. Sherlock knew he had had enough. Sherlock knew he had to leave because if he was in the same room as that stupid man named Sam Sawyer, he was probably going to kill him. Without a doubt.

When Sherlock tried to open he door, Sam spat on his shoes. "Tell that slut of yours and that retarded of a son she has to stay away from me or they'll regret it."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. His hands turned into fists and his knuckles were dangerously white. He turned and looked at Sam Sawyer. "Say that again. If you have the _'guts'_ , say that again."

Sam chuckled. "Tell that _slut_ of yours and that _retarded_ of a son she has to stay away —"

Sherlock jumped over him and punched him hard. Sam fought him too, and after some seconds he could push Sherlock off him and pressed a hand to his nose to realise it was broken. Sam looked at Sherlock with angry eyes.

"You know you can hit me. You can _kill_ me if you want. But that won't change anything," said Sam, panting, breathless. "I'll always be Jane's first man. She sucked my cock and she was mine before being yours."

"You don't know what is to be a _good_ lover," said Sherlock, grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt and looking into Sam's green eyes. "I won't put myself on your level. But know this: I'm more of a _man_ than you'll ever be."

Sam chuckled. "Oh, really? D'you really think I care about her?," said Sam, smiling mockingly. " _You_ know this: every time Jane sees that child's face, she will remember _me_."

* * *

Hamish was helplessly crying in Jane's arms. No matter what Jane tried to say, Hamish wouldn't understand. She tried to say Sherlock didn't mean that, that he said Hamish was now a little boy and not a baby anymore. But Hamish was so clever. He had heard them talking, and he caught that; he heard Sherlock saying Hamish was not his son, and that the new baby was his. But not Hamish.

It broke Jane's heart.

"Hamish, daddy said you're a little boy and that you're not a baby anymore."

"Daddy Sherwock not baby!"

Jane wanted to cry too. "Okay, calm down. Do you want to go and sleep with me and the baby for a bit? It's time you had your nap."

"No! I wanna daddy!" cried Hamish.

Jane got to her feet with Hamish in her arms. "Let's go, Hamish. Do it for me, please."

Both lay together in Sherlock's big bed and Jane watched Hamish sleeping for long minutes. As soon as she cuddled him on bed Hamish fell asleep next to her. Jane cried, silently, as she watched Hamish peacefully sleeping and wondered where Sherlock was.

And why he said that.

* * *

"Next time, I'll kill you," said Sherlock, angrily. "Get close to them, and I'll kill you."

Sam shook his head. "I don't give a fuck about them. Go and play 'happy families' if you want. But never, ever, tell that child I'm his father. He's _not_ my son."

"No, he isn't. He is mine. Hamish will _always_ be mine."

Sherlock turned and left.

* * *

When Sherlock opened the door, the flat was silent. He looked down at his watch and he frowned confused. It was tea time. When he opened the door he expected to see Jane and Hamish having tea, watching telly maybe, eating cookies or maybe the cake Mrs had baked for them. But everything was dark and silent.

He went to his room where he found Hamish sleeping on his side of the bed and Jane silently crying next to him.

"What happened?" asked he, sitting next to her. When he tried to kiss her lips Jane turned her head. "What's wrong?"

"He heard you."

"I don't understand —"

Jane turned to see him. "He heard you telling Mycroft you're _not_ his father."

Sherlock felt his heart drowning. "I... I didn't think he would —"

"He's not stupid, Sherlock!"

"I'm not saying he's stupid!"

Their were being too loud and Hamish woke up crying. He quickly clung himself to his mother and hid his face in the curve of her neck. Jane patted his back and sat on the bed with him. Sherlock sat next to them and tried to take Hamish's hand, but the little boy rejected his touch.

"I wanna daddy!"

"Hamish, calm down. Daddy is here now," said Jane, trying to make Hamish sit between them.

"I wanna daddy!"

Sherlock took Hamish in his arms and let him cry against his chest. He patted his back softly and pressed light kisses to his temple and his forehead. "Hamish, you're my baby."

"You said I not baby and dat baby," cried Hamish.

Sherlock nodded. He had to come up with something, because Hamish was a clever boy. He remembered what he had heard. And being a father was not always easy. It wasn't all smiles and laughter. There were days in which Hamish could throw tantrums all day long, or something he would be very stubborn. Now that Jane's baby bump was very noticeable, Hamish started to be jealous and every now and then he would cry for nothing.

But this time it was different. Sherlock was not dealing with a child after a tantrum, he was not telling Hamish off after he had broken something and he was not trying to explain him why he had to eat more veggies and less cookies.

This time Sherlock had to explain Hamish why he said he was not his son. And this was not easy.

"Hamish, look at me. You're my baby —"

"No! You said I not baby!" said Hamish with tears in his eyes.

Sherlock caressed the boy's soft curls. "I didn't mean that, Hamish. There are things we can't explain now. But I'm your father. I'll always be your father. Can you understand that?"

Hamish pointed at Jane's baby bump. "Dat baby?"

"Yes. What mummy has in her tummy is a baby, our baby," said Sherlock, softly. "And you were in her tummy too. Because you were and you will always be our baby," tried to explain he, using words he knew Hamish would understand.

The little boy fixated his eyes on Jane's growing belly. "Mummy said bro... brother."

"Yes. The baby in her tummy is your brother," explained Sherlock.

Jane nodded. "You and your little brother are our babies."

Hamish was calm now. He stopped cried and he hugged Sherlock tightly. Sherlock let him wipe the tears off his face on his shirt as he patted the little boy's back and kissed his curls. "You're _my_ baby. And I'll always be your father, understood?"

Hamish nodded with a wide smile on his face and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "I love daddy!"

"I love you too, Hamish."

Jane wiped the tears off her face and got to her feet. "Well, it's almost time for dinner! Hamish, why don't you go and play with your toys while daddy and I think about dinner?"

Hamish ran to the sitting room leaving his parents alone. Jane was about to kiss Sherlock when she glanced at the red stain on his coat. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You... oh my God, you didn't kill him did you?"

Sherlock kissed Jane's growing belly. "No. I was close to, but no."

"Sherlock —"

"Why you didn't tell me you talked to him?"

Jane let out a long sigh. "I wanted to know if he wanted to be part of Hamish' life. I'm sorry, I should've told you."

"What did he tell you? Did he hurt you?" asked Sherlock worriedly.

"No. He said he wasn't sure if he was Hamish's real father," said Jane, with some tears in her eyes. "That he should have made me have an abortion."

"Jane, don't cry."

"How could he say something like that, Sherlock?" said Jane, burying her face into Sherlock's strong chest. "I can't even... I can't think of my life without Hamish."

Sherlock hugged her tightly. "Let's not talk about him anymore. We have a wedding to plan and adoption papers to take a look at. I can't wait to give our son my name. And I can't wait to make you my wife again. This time forever."

"You promise?"

"I promise. I want to be with you forever. Until death do us part."

Jane nodded. "Until death do us part."


	64. Family Traditions

"Thank you so much for inviting me, dear," said Elizabeth Holmes as they got into a wedding dresses shop. "I thought you would buy the dress with Mrs Hudson."

"Yes well, she's visiting her sister."

"Sherlock says she's like a mother to you."

Jane nodded. "Yes, she's been so good to me. She's like the mother I no longer have."

Elizabeth immediately changed the subject since Jane had been very emotional lately. Plus, she was pregnant, and they were supposed to pick her wedding dress. It was meant to be a wonderful, happy day.

The first and only shop they visited was the one Elizabeth suggested and said it was 'The best wedding dresses shop' in London. She recommend it to Jane since many of her closest friends' daughters had got their dresses there. Jane wasn't so sure about that shop. She knew if Elizabeth was suggesting it, it was surely a place selling expensive dresses and she didn't have much money, even though Sherlock handed her his credit card to use as many times as she wanted.

The shop was big and there were wedding dresses everywhere you looked at. As soon as they got in, Jane started looking for some very modest and simple dresses and found some of them very affordable.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?" asked a very young sales girl.

Elizabeth smiled at her. "Yes dear. I've called earlier saying I was coming with my daughter."

"Mrs Holmes?"

"That's me," said Elizabeth and soon they were taken to a special room which was empty. There were no crazy women and their mothers looking for dresses, but nice and comfortable chairs, a table with tea for two and a big mirror.

"I'll take it you have some connections here," said Jane.

"I know the owner of this shop."

The young sales girl disappeared and a senior sales assistant appeared. She looked older and politer than the first woman. "Mrs Holmes, good afternoon."

"Afternoon. We're looking for a wedding dress for my daughter."

"Of course," said the old woman and then turned to Jane. "Any special preferences?"

Jane looked at Elizabeth, not really knowing what to say. "Um... I want something modest, nothing too pretentious or big —just a normal dress. Comfortable."

"I can have a team of my assistants looking for the best dresses for you while you enjoy your tea," said she and then left them alone.

In less than fifteen minutes a team of five sales assistants got into the room with twenty different wedding dresses.

Jane stared at them and then looked at Elizabeth. "Am I supposed to try all of them on?"

"Not if you don't want to. You can take a look and see which one you like."

Jane looked at them one by one. All of them were beautiful, the fabrics were soft and pristine. Jane knew all of those dresses were beautiful, but she couldn't picture herself wearing them. Even though she had said she wanted 'simple' dresses, some of them were big, presumptuous and she didn't want that. She just wanted a very modest dress, simple because that's what she was.

She was looking at the last dress when she smiled, knowing she had found the perfect one.

* * *

Hamish tightened his grip on his daddy's hand and got close to his ear. "Daddy... I wanna go 'ome," whispered he.

Sherlock was sitting with Hamish on his lap at his favourite shop waiting for the tailor while his father was trying on a new suit. "We won't go home until your grandfather, you and I get our suits for the wedding."

"Wewin'?"

"Wedding."

Hamish looked around and pointed at his grandfather who was trying on a new jacket. "Papa Riward!"

"How do I look, Hamish?" said Richard Holmes while adjusting his new jacket and stepping in front of his son and his grandson.

"You didn't need to come. Hamish and I could have done just fine."

Richard sat next to him and patted his back. "You mother always dreamt of taking her daughter to get her wedding dress. As we never had any daughters but two boys, she's doing it with Jane."

"You dreamt of taking me to the tailor to get my wedding suit?"

"Yes."

Sherlock shrugged. "You didn't do so when I got married three years ago."

"That was different," said Richard. "We were all in a hurry."

"You hurried the wedding because of the sake of 'what people will say'."

Richard let out a silent sigh. "You will never forgive us, won't you?"

Sherlock sat Hamish on a chair as he tried on one of the two jackets he liked. "I suppose mother is giving Jane the necklace."

"Yes. Don't be jealous. I've got something for you too."

"The country house?" said Sherlock while looking himself in the mirror. "And Mycroft said he would never let me even set a foot on that house."

Richard sat next to Hamish. "And I said we were giving that house to the first one getting married. And that's you."

Sherlock was silent for a long time while the tailor took the measurements and then tried on some trousers and shirts. Hamish sat with his grandfather and waited for his daddy when Richard remembered what he was to ask his son.

"Have you got the rings?"

Sherlock nodded. "Of course. And before you ask, they are simple, golden rings with our names engraved on them."

"And have you —"

"Yes," said Sherlock cutting him off. "Had to ask Mycroft to pull some strings and get Hamish's new papers ready for the wedding."

Richard smiled. "Aren't you nervous?"

"Nervous? Why would I be nervous?"

"You're my son, Sherlock. I might not be as clever as you or Mycroft are, but I know you."

Sherlock looked down at Hamish happy face. "We don't need that house."

"Your mother and I want you to own that house. It's yours. And I'm sure Jane and the kids will love it."

Sherlock didn't say much and started looking through some ties that will match with his suit. "I will need you and mother to look after Hamish for a weekend."

"Of course. Your mother will be over the moon having Hamish in the house," said Richard with a smile. "We can look after him for more than a weekend."

"Jane won't leave Hamish for more than a weekend. Neither will I. And she's studying."

"Where are you going? France? Italy? Barbados? You can go to Kenya. I heard the weather is warm these days and you know we have some properties there."

Sherlock shook his head. "She won't be able to endure such long journeys."

"You can go to the country house then," suggested Richard. "It can be a nice chance for you to stay there and see if you like it."

"Hmm."

* * *

Jane was standing in front of a big mirror. Elizabeth was standing next to her and with a big, wide smile on her face and looking at her through the mirror.

"You look so beautiful."

"You think so?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Of course. Do you like it?"

"Yes," said Jane. "It's perfect."

"But?" asked Elizabeth, seeing Jane doubtful expression.

"It's too expensive and I can't afford it."

"If you like this dress, you'll have it."

"No! No, no, no, Elizabeth, just... no. I can't let you pay for this dress."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Jane, dear, you are to get married to my son. You are like a daughter to me."

"I don't know what to say, Elizabeth. After what I did —"

"That's part of the past, darling. We have already sorted that out, haven't we?" said Elizabeth.

After they talked to Sherlock and asked him to see Hamish and Jane again, Elizabeth and Richard apologised to Jane for being absent when she most needed them. Both apologised saying they shouldn't have thought so badly of her and her child, and that they were really sorry. On the other hand, Jane apologised for lying to them, but they hardly cared about it. But after some cups of tea they were fine. Elizabeth and Richard Holmes welcomed Jane as their daughter. And somehow Sherlock accepted seeing them every now and then on family meals and taking Hamish with them so they could see him and be part of his life.

"Still. I can't let you do this."

Elizabeth took Jane's hand and caressed her knuckles with her thumb. "Jane, you're like a daughter to me. Let me give you this dress as a present to you."

"I'm sorry, but I can't really understand why someone like you can be so good to me. I'm not even your real daughter. I'm just your son's girlfriend."

"How wouldn't I be good to you when you're the reason as to why my son is happy? I have never seen Sherlock this happy, Jane. And that's because of you. Do not put yourself down."

Jane sobbed a bit. "I really wish my mother was here."

"Sherlock said you haven't seen her for years."

"Since I told her Hamish was not Sherlock's. She's embarrassed of me and my son. She hasn't even asked to meet him. I suppose I haven't been the best daughter, have I?" said Jane, bitterly.

Elizabeth took her hand. "She should be proud of you. You've got a lovely family and you are going to be a brilliant doctor. I'm sure you will," then she smiled at her tenderly. "Well, I'm not your mother but I will like to be one to you. I haven't got any daughters and God knows I wish I had one. You are the most perfect woman for my son and I'm very grateful to life he's got you."

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

* * *

"Like daddy!" said Hamish pointing at the mirror in front of him. "Like daddy!"

Sherlock kissed his head and nodded. "Yes. You like your suit, Hamish?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Richard stood close to his son and his grandchild. "He looks exactly like you when you were his age. Though you despised wearing suits."

"Let's not mention the days you and Mother made me wear those hideous suits only to please our family status."

"You keep wearing them."

"It's for my job."

Richard cleared his throat. "Isn't your job a bit... dangerous?"

"Occasionally, yes."

"You don't need to work, Sherlock. You know we have enough money —"

"My job keeps my mind working. I wouldn't change it for anything in this world."

"Not even for the sake of your family? You'll have two little children soon and they will need to be safe."

"They will always be safe," said Sherlock, helping Hamish with the laces of his little shoes.

Richard nodded. "I know. But be careful, Sherlock. You know your mother and I will always be there for you and your family."

"My family comes always first. They will be safe."

"Daddy I 'ungry!"

Richard took Hamish in his arms and handed the sales man his credit card. "Why don't we all go and have some tea together?"

"Yes! Papa Riward I wanna milk and cake!"

"Of course, you'll have whatever you want!"

Sherlock shook his head. "No. He will only have milk and some cookies."

Hamish looked a bit sad and Richard smiled at him. "Don't worry Hamish. Next weekend you'll eat and do whatever you want —"

"You're not supposed to spoil my child!"

Richard laughed. "For God's sake, Sherlock. It's only cake!"

"You say that because you won't be with us when he can't conceive any sleep tonight due to the high dose of sugar on his system!"

"He will sleep tonight. I promise."

* * *

"Well, have you got something new?"

Jane nodded. "Yes."

"Something old?"

"Yes."

"Something blue?"

"My blue hair pin," said Jane.

"And something borrowed?"

Jane bit her lip. "Nope."

Both Jane and Elizabeth were having tea at a very nice coffee shop after spending a fair time at the dress shop. Jane got the dress, a new pair of shoes and all she needed for her wedding day when Elizabeth asked her if she really had everything she needed.

"I want you to have this," said Elizabeth as she handed Jane a velvet box. "It has been in the family for many, many years."

Jane opened the box and her eyes were as wide as saucers. It was a very, and surely expensive diamond necklace. "Elizabeth..."

"It was given to me by Richard's mother before the wedding. As I haven't had any daughters, and so far you're my only daughter-in-law, I want you to use it for your wedding. You don't really need to, but it will be nice to see the Holmes tradition continues."

"No. Of course I'll use it. It's part of your family's tradition."

Elizabeth smiled. "Sherlock says you're expecting a baby boy. But if you ever have a baby girl, give it to her to wear in her wedding. It's a silly family tradition, but that necklace has been in the family for many years. Now you are joining the family, I, as many of the other women in the family will love it if you make yourself sure the tradition continues."

"It's not silly. And yes, Sherlock is determined to have more babies and I'm sure a little girl will come," said Jane with a furious blush on her cheeks. "I'll give my daughter this necklace. I promise."

"Thank you, Jane. You're a Godsend!"

Jane smiled tenderly. "But, what about Mycroft? Wouldn't he want his future wife to wear this necklace as well?"

"Dear Jane, I doubt Mycroft will ever get married. He's already married to his job."

* * *

"Ah, I see you've been doing the traditional shopping for the wedding. Hello father, Sherlock, Hamish," said Mycroft as he sat on the big table, next to his father and across Sherlock and Hamish who was sitting on his daddy's lap.

"Uncle Mycrowt, umbrella?"

Mycroft curled his lips upwards. "I'm not carrying an umbrella every day, Hamish."

"No, he only does it when he needs to look frightening," said Sherlock and Hamish giggled.

Richard shook his head. "Boys, not here. Please."

"Oh and look at you, Sherlock. You have been putting on weight. Nine pounds? Impressive."

"And you Mycroft?"

"Losing it, in fact. Thank you very much."

Sherlock leaned backwards and rested his back on the chair. "Your assistant has been doing some extra hours I see, making herself sure you eat less cake and that you do more exercise with her in the back seat —"

"Sherlock!"

"What I do or what I don't do in my moments of privacy is not your business," replied Mycroft, trying to sound as calm as possible after his brother had deduced his activities with his private assistant in front of their father.

Richard nodded. "Mycroft is right."

"He spies on me and Jane!"

"But at least he does it for your own safety and he's not deducing what you do with your girlfriend within the four walls of your room!"

Sherlock sat Hamish on the chair next to him and took a sip of his tea. "She's growing tired of the back seat."

"Sherlock!" hissed Richard.

Mycroft kicked Sherlock's leg under the table.

Like he used to do when they were just kids.

* * *

A few hours later Elizabeth's chauffeur drove the two women to Baker Street. He helped Jane with the shopping bags while Elizabeth and Jane sat in the sitting room.

"Have you got the things for the new baby?"

"Not yet," said Jane. "We'll get some after the wedding."

They heard the door being open and soon Richard Holmes and Sherlock entered the room. Sherlock had a very sleepy Hamish in his arms. "I'll take him to his room. You," said he, looking at his parents. "Ought to leave. _Now._ "

"Sherlock! That's rude!" Jane told him off.

"You're tired and you need to lie down."

Jane shook her head disapprovingly. "Please, stay for dinner. I'd love to cook something for you."

Elizabeth and Richard smiled at her. "Sherlock is right, you must have some rest and we need to go home," said Elizabeth.

"Jane, we are very happy for you. You are the perfect woman for our son. We know you will take good care of him and our grandchildren," said Richard, taking advantage Sherlock was not in the room but upstairs putting Hamish on his bed.

"I should be the one saying thanks. You've done so much for us. I don't deserve you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Don't say that, dear. You're a daughter to us. Know we will always be here for you."

"Thank you."

Jane hugged her parent's in law and they left not without kissing Sherlock and telling him to take care of his future wife.

"Are you okay?"

Jane nodded. "I'm a bit tired. Is Hamish on bed already?"

Sherlock nodded. He kissed her lips and walked with her to their room. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. Did you and Hamish get everything you needed?"

"Yes. And I'm sure my mother gave you the necklace."

Jane nodded with a smile. "I'm wearing it for the wedding."

"You don't need to."

"But I want to. Also," said she with hopeful smile. "I told your mother I'll give it to our daughter."

Sherlock placed a hand to her baby bump and kissed her lips. "Do you want to have more children?"

Jane nodded. "I want to have another baby."

"I wish we could make it now. She will be so perfect and beautiful like you."

"I'll like to wait at least a few more years, though. But then I promise we'll have all the babies you want," said Jane with a wide smile.

"I love you."

Jane looked into his eyes and kissed him. "I love you."


	65. The Love in Our Hearts

Jane was five months pregnant when they got married. It was a nice Friday morning when finally, after so many things, good and bad, Jane Watson and Sherlock Holmes got married for a second time. But this time it was forever.

That morning both woke up together. Sherlock cuddled Jane and kissed her, not letting go of her until Hamish woke up and joined their parents on their bed. They explained Hamish they were getting married but that wasn't going to change anything. Hamish hardly understood the situation and the importance of the ceremony, but at least Jane and Sherlock were happy they were finally getting married and that Hamish was going to be there with them.

Later, Jane was driven to the Holmes' house where she was to get ready for the wedding with Elizabeth's help while Mrs Hudson was helping Hamish with his little suit. Sherlock didn't want to admit it, but he was nervous. His landlady saw him struggling with the little buttons of Hamish's tailored shirt, and she had to help him otherwise they would be arriving late to the register office.

Just in time, Sherlock was ready. He was wearing a dark suit and matching tie and a white shirt. Hamish was dressed exactly like his father, but he was wearing a dark blue little suit specially made and tailored for him. Mrs Hudson helped Hamish with his wild curls and combed them to the side, just like Sherlock.

Both looked adorable.

Once ready, the three of them left to the register office.

* * *

When Greg arrived at the Holmes' Jane was already ready and waiting for him to take her to the register office. Jane had asked him to be the one giving her away the day of her wedding because he was like a father to her and because she loved him. Greg was very happy and he accepted without hesitation. He was very happy for Jane and Sherlock, specially for her because he knew her since she was a little girl and now she was all a grown woman.

"You look so beautiful. Your father would be so proud of you."

Jane smiled at him sincerely. "I know."

"Jane, a few months later I wasn't sure about you and Sherlock getting back together," confessed Greg. "Are you happy with him?"

"He makes me the happiest woman in the world. And he loves Hamish so much."

"That's all I need to know. I'm sure you two will be very happy together."

Jane took his hand and both got into the car and left.

* * *

"I wanna mummy," said Hamish, sitting with his daddy outside the room where his parents were supposed to get married.

Sherlock kissed Hamish' forehead. "Mummy will come soon. Women do this kind of things to make us believe they regretted it."

"Jane would never do that, Sherlock," said Mrs Hudson.

"I know."

They were at the register office waiting for Jane. Sherlock's parents, Elizabeth and Richard Holmes, Mycroft and even Molly and Bill were there too. The only ones missing were Jane and Greg, who were to arrive soon.

Sherlock gave Hamish a little dark velvet box. "Keep this. It has the rings."

Jane and Sherlock explained Hamish they were getting married because they loved each other, but that wasn't going to change their status, that they were a family, that they had always been one and just getting married was something nice to do. They couldn't tell Hamish they were doing it, mainly, so Sherlock could adopt Hamish and give him his name. That was one of the main reasons. Jane said she didn't need a ring on her finger or a piece of paper to prove she loved him, but Sherlock insisted. He said he wanted them to get married because now they were doing it being in love with each other.

When Jane arrived, Sherlock looked at her amazed. She looked so beautiful. Jane was wearing a white dress. It was floor length, loose enough for her pregnant belly and sleeveless. This time Jane felt she didn't need to hide her scarred shoulder anymore, because it was part of her past, and that past was what made her the woman she was now. Her short hair which had been growing was combed to the side and curled, secured with a blue hair pin. She was wearing the necklace of the Holmes family and that ring her father gave to her years ago and that Sherlock kept with him when he had to leave her and Hamish to get himself clean. She was also wearing soft pink lipstick and eyeliner too.

"Mummy!"

Mrs Hudson took Hamish's hand and took him inside the office where his parents were to get married to give them a moment alone.

"Sherlock, your tie," said Jane, ignoring Sherlock's eyes on her and trying to fix his tie. She let her fingertips ran over Sherlock's dark suit when she placed both of her palms on his strong chest.

Sherlock cupped her face. "You look so beautiful, Jane. I can't wait to make you my wife."

When he tried to kiss her, Jane pressed a finger to his lips. "Let's get married."

For the legal wedding, Jane chose to walk into the office with Greg Lestrade. Mrs Hudson was standing next to her once she reached the desk of the Superintendent registrar with Hamish and next to Sherlock was Mycroft and his parents.

Greg patted Sherlock's back. "Take care of her, will you?"

Sherlock nodded and took Jane's hand and kissed it.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes free lawfully to marry Jane Watson?" asked the Superintendent registrar.

"I am."

"And are you Jane Watson free lawfully to marry Sherlock Holmes?"

Jane smiled at Sherlock. "I am."

The Superintendent registrar cleared his throat. "The rings."

Hamish walked close to his parents and gave Sherlock a dark velvet small box with the rings inside. Jane smiled at him and Hamish stood a close to them.

Both had chosen to write their own vows and coming from an important family, they had the freedom to say whatever they wanted to say.

"I, Sherlock Holmes, take you, Jane Watson, to be my wife. You are the reason as to why I want to commit my life to yours. You are my soul, my life, the air I breathe every day. I promise to look after you," Sherlock looked into her eyes and kissed her hand. "I promise I will not hurt you. I will always love you and I will always be by your side. Until death do us part."

Jane smiled and took a deep breath as she felt the baby kicking inside her. "I, Jane Watson, take you, Sherlock Holmes, to be my husband. I love you with all my heart and I want you to know what without you I have no life. You are the reason why my heart beats and why our baby kicks," said she and giggled a bit. "You are the first person I want to look at when I wake up and the last person I want to look at before going to sleep. I love you and I will always do so. Until death do us part," said Jane, while putting on his ring and sincerely smiling at Sherlock.

Both sign off the papers, and finally kissed. It had been so different from their first wedding. This one was true, this time they were deeply in love and this time Jane was not marrying Sherlock because she was pregnant with someone else's child and they had to pretend, act. She was marrying Sherlock because she loved him and she was expecting his baby.

When they first got married, Sherlock kissed her cheek.

This time, he was the owner of her lips.

"I love you, Sherlock."

Sherlock placed a hand on her belly and felt their baby kicking inside her. "I love you too."

Hamish joined them. Sherlock raised him and the little boy hugged both of his parents, making everyone smile and take countless pictures.

Soon after the wedding and before leaving the register office, now the newlyweds Jane and Sherlock Holmes were given the papers and Hamish' new identification papers; he was now Hamish Watson-Holmes. They were able to get all the paperwork done very quickly thanks to Mycroft Holmes and his power as a 'minor member of the British Government' and it was his own present to the the newlyweds and to Hamish too.

Both Elizabeth and Richard gave them a lot of presents, from things for their kitchen such as plates, silverware, cups, and a lot of things too! But the present Jane liked the most was a nice weekend trip to the Holmes' small (and most modest) cottage house. As they couldn't leave for much time since Jane was studying and they didn't want to leave Hamish for long, they decided to have a small honeymoon in a nice country place not so far from London. That very same day Richard gave Sherlock the papers of the house and now he and Jane were the owners of that country house.

They immediately left after the wedding, neither of them wanted anything special, not even a meal with their family and friends. Soon Jane and Sherlock were on a car saying good bye to everyone.

"Mummy and daddy will be back soon, okay Hamish? Be good to Nan Lizzie and Grandpa Richard," said Jane, pressing a kiss to Hamish's cheek.

Sherlock kissed him too, and Hamish waved his hand in farewell, watching how his parents, now married, left.

* * *

When they were getting into the country side Jane rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder and took his hand and both entwined their fingers. He kissed her hair and cuddled her.

"I can't wait to get there and get this dress off you."

Jane giggled and kissed him passionately. "I want you to make love to me."

"My thoughts precisely."

As soon as they arrived at the small, but very modest house (to be a property of the Holmes') Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers. The house was big, with white painted walls at the front, red roof, and a small pond close to the entrance of the house and trees. There were lots of trees and with the grass fields, it looked very nice and warm. As the sun was disappearing to let the night and the stars shine over them, the orange sky made the landscape look beautiful.

"This is what your parents said was their most 'modest property'?"

Sherlock nodded. "It's ours."

"What?!"

"Father gave me the papers today. It's ours," said Sherlock, as a matter-of-fact and took Jane's hand to get into the house.

They took a quick look at the place. Everything was clean and pristine; the furniture were clean of dust, as the floor and the kitchen was equipped with enough food for more than a weekend. The rooms had also been cleaned and Sherlock immediately took Jane to their room which was the biggest one in the whole house.

Jane let out a deep sigh and fell heavily on the bed. Sherlock sat next to her started kissing her softly. "How do you feel, love?"

She smiled. "Happy. I'm very happy."

"You look so beautiful," said he. "This dress... I'd like to take it off you."

Jane nodded and allowed him to do so.

Jane sat and kissed him passionately and pulled at Sherlock's dark jacket, and then started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"You look so sexy when you wear suits," said Jane between kisses. "I want you, Sherlock."

Sherlock was now topless and he was pulling at the straps of Jane's white dress. "Remember our first night together?"

Jane let Sherlock undress her and soon both were naked in each other's arms. "Yes."

"You said I made you feel different. That I made you feel special," said Sherlock, looking straight into her blue eyes.

"Yes. You made me feel like no one ever made me feel before."

Sherlock placed himself behind her he lifted Jane's upper leg and with one hand he explored her and sunk his fingers into her. Jane moved her hips up and down as she moaned incoherent things and begged Sherlock to take her. "I want to make you feel loved. I want to take care of you."

"I know you love me."

Sherlock sucked her earlobe where he knew Jane was very sensitive. "I want to make you feel _special_ tonight."

"Sherlock, you always make me feel special."

He sunk into her very slowly and thrust until he was completely inside her. Sherlock could feel Jane catching her breath. He placed a hand on her hip and took Jane's hand with the other and they entwined their fingers.

"Are you sure you're okay?" whispered Sherlock to her ear when he tried to pull out and Jane hissed.

"Ahhh... yes. Do it slowly."

Sherlock kissed the curve of her neck and did as he had been asked to. He didn't mind not doing it as hard or fast as he liked. He knew Jane was very fragile, and that being pregnant was something else to considerate. And ultimately, Sherlock only wanted to please her. And lately he had discovered lazy, soft and slow sex was amazing.

Sherlock started teasing her nipples with his fingertips. "You like this?"

"Ahhhhhh Sherlock yes, do it like that..."

Sherlock continued moving in and out, very slowly as his left hand was teasing and caressing Jane's hard nipples. His thrust were slow and he never stopped sinking into her until he knew he was completely inside her and hitting her soft spot. Feeling her tight walls around him drove Sherlock crazy. He had been looking forward to this since he woke up next to her early that night. He couldn't just get enough of her.

"Jane," panted he, feeling Jane's warm walls around his hard member.

She chuckled. "Your fingers Sherlock."

He was also rubbing her clitoris with his fingers faster and roughly as he thrust into her from behind. "You feel so tight."

"You like that? You like how I feel?"

He nodded and kissed her neck. "Yes. I love all of you, every inch of your body."

"I'm yours."

Sherlock started thrusting harder. "This is mine," said he, placing a hand on her baby bump. "We made this."

"Yes..."

"I can't get enough of you. I need to do this to you. I need your body."

Jane moved a hand to Sherlock's hip trying to make him thrust deeper into her. "You can have it all. I'm all yours, Sherlock."

"You belong to me."

She nodded and pressed a hand to her mouth. "I'm all yours," repeated.

The rhythm increased, and then Jane felt herself being filled with Sherlock's member completely every time he thrust into her. Sherlock raised his head to look at Jane's body next him, both of their bodies were sharing a same rhythm. And Jane's mouth was pronouncing incredible and amazing sounds to his ears and her now large, full breasts on his hand felt amazing as the soft skin of her back against his chest.

"I'm close."

Jane bit her lip. "Me too. Sherlock... I need to see you. I want to see you come."

Sherlock successfully changed the position very quickly and as soon as Jane was on her back and he was kneeling between her legs, he sunk into her hard and rough. He put some pillows under her body and under her hips and the angle of penetration was perfect. However, Sherlock was not pressing his body over hers. He only went down to kiss her and he thrust hard.

"Yes... do it hard," panted Jane, almost breathless.

Sherlock took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked when he felt the muscles of his stomach tighten and Jane's nails buried on his back.

"Sherlock... ahhhhhhhh yes! Yes...!"

Jane came first and Sherlock thrust two more times until he came inside her. After some seconds still inside her and catching his breath, Sherlock pulled out and lay next to her on their big bed. Both turned to face each other when Jane told him she was cold.

"You're sweating."

She nodded. "You were amazing, Sherlock."

"I can't get enough of you," said he, pressing soft kisses to her neck. "I need to kiss every inch of your body. I need to know what you like."

Jane placed both of her palms to Sherlock's shoulders and closed her eyes, feeling Sherlock's soft lips on her neck. "I'm yours."

"My mind palace needs more of you," said he, kissing her chest and ten her belly. " _I_ need more of you."

Jane took his hand and kissed his golden ring. "I'm all yours, Sherlock. You can have everything you want. Every part of my body belongs to you."

"You're my _drug_. Don't ever leave me. I can't conceive of a life without you."

She cupped his face and looked into his grayish eyes. "I'll never leave you. I love you, Sherlock," she kissed him softly. "My heart belongs to you. It has always been yours."

"Nothing will tear us apart."

She smiled. "Nothing."


	66. Strawberry Swing

The following morning Jane was the first waking up. She smiled sleepily as she felt Sherlock's strong arm on her waist and his soft breathing on her neck. Jane felt tremendously warm in Sherlock's arms. She felt safe, happy, she knew she belonged to those arms. Jane knew she belonged to Sherlock in every way.

Being very careful, Jane slid out her husband's arms with a technique that took her some time to master and sat on the edge of the bed. She wrapped herself with her gown and turned to see her husband who was deeply, peacefully sleeping on their bed. His nakedness, only covered by a thin sheet made Jane smile. His dark, wild curls were a mess, and he was snoring. However, it was not an annoying snoring. It was soft, light. Jane saw him turning to his side and then shivering a little bit. She covered his bare torso with the sheet and kissed his forehead before leaving the room and going towards the bathroom.

Later, Jane went to the kitchen ready to prepare some breakfast as she felt very hungry. Opening most of the cupboards, Jane found the house had been equipped with enough food for two. She prepared a tea tray, two cups, jam, orange juice and some cookies while she waited for the kettle and toast when looking through the window, Jane spotted a lovely garden table and some chairs outside, just under the day was bright sunny and the sky was blue, free of clouds. It was warm enough for her so once the tea and toast were ready she took the tea tray with her and sat in one of the chairs under the sun to enjoy a nice breakfast.

Jane felt so happy. There was something within her chest, something that didn't let her stop smiling. She looked at her golden ring on her left hand and smiled, remembering the first one she wore years ago when she first got married —when they got married— and she felt happy. Jane felt in peace, happy, complete. She felt she was in heaven.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Sherlock was already awake and that he was just sitting next to her when he planted a kiss on her forehead.

"You didn't wake me."

"Good morning to you too," said Jane with a smile, pouring tea into Sherlock's cup. "I thought you wanted to sleep, sorry."

Sherlock placed a hand on her growing belly. "How is he?"

"Calm. Must be sleeping. Hasn't kicked at all."

"Have you brought your stethoscope?"

"What for?" asked Jane confusedly.

"It worries me when he doesn't kick," said he. "I need to hear him."

Jane hissed when she felt their baby furiously kicking inside her and quickly took Sherlock's hand and placed it on her belly. "There. I think he wants to say 'Hi daddy I'm right here kicking my mummy's belly. I can't wait to get out'" Sherlock, who had been focused on her belly for a few seconds raised his gaze to look at her. "It was a joke. He's fine, Sherlock. Trust me."

He placed both hands on her belly and felt their baby kicking even more. Jane frowned and shut her eyes close, feeling how the baby was moving inside her and not being gentle at all. She was used to it because Hamish did the same, but this new baby kicked far too much and it hurt. Sometimes when Sherlock placed both of his hands on specifics parts of her belly, the baby would kick just right there, where Sherlock's hands were. It looked like he wanted to touch Sherlock, as if their baby wanted to be with Sherlock only.

"Does it hurt you?"

Jane nodded. "Sometimes," admitted Jane and then looked down to her belly and caressed her baby bump. "You'll be good at sports won't you, baby?"

"How does it feel?" When Jane looked at him confusedly, Sherlock knew he had to elaborate his question. "You're carrying our child inside you. You're putting a lot of weight, more than you'd like to, your feet are sore, as your back, and your breast are getting ready to breastfeed. The hormonal change must be tedious, judging by your mood swings."

Jane leaned close for a kiss and then she sipped more of her tea. She was silent for a couple of seconds in which Sherlock noticed she was trying to think about his question and about a possible answer. He knew Jane was happy for being pregnant. They had been trying for a baby for so long that for a moment the only thing they though was about conceiving that child that was going to be theirs and that was going to make their family bigger. But Jane was not also happy but tired. Her whole body was going through a big change; she was carrying a baby now, she was putting on weight. Her feet, her back, her breasts even were sore now and she was always complaining after the stretching marks on her belly she said were not only ugly but also painful.

Looking into her blue eyes, Sherlock thought he could never love anymore more than he loved Jane.

"There are days in which I feel like killing you," said Jane with a smile. "Sometimes I think it's not fair only women go through this. My vagina will have to expand itself enough to let a baby come to this world and it scares me. I've studied it, and I can't imagine how painful it will be. Pregnancy _scares_ me," repeated Jane.

"You don't look scared. And you shouldn't be. There are no complications whatsoever and you've already been through this."

She nodded. "But I can't help it. My medical knowledge tells me I'm doing everything right; that what I eat is good for him and what I do everyday doesn't hurt him or produce any kind of disturbance to his development. But the other part of me is afraid. This is a baby, the product of our love and I ought to take care of him because this baby is the most precious thing we've got."

"He's going to be fine."

"We don't know, Sherlock."

"The doctors said he's fine. You said he's fine."

"I know," whispered Jane. "But there's always a chance things get complicated. I've been through this as you said, but this time is different. As far as I knew Hamish was just a little bit smaller than expected and very healthy and when he was born doctors found out he was going deaf, that his heart was weak... I think we need to be ready. Just in case."

Sherlock took her hand and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. "He'll be very healthy. I promise."

"It's just..." Jane started crying. "I'm not strong enough, Sherlock. I don't know how we'll manage."

"What are you talking about?"

"What if... what if he's ill?"

"He'll be healthy," repeated Sherlock.

Jane sobbed. "And what if he's not?"

"If he is not, we'll help him. You won't be alone this time. I'll be right here with you and him and he'll be fine."

Jane buried her face into Sherlock's chest and cried for a several minutes while Sherlock caressed her back reassuringly. Their tea was already forgotten on the table and the sun shining over them was no longer enough for them. Sherlock didn't want to cry, even when he felt his own tears threatening to go out in plain sight. He was not afraid whatsoever. He knew their baby was healthy and that both of them were doing things right. Their baby was going to be fine.

But Jane's fears were his fears too. Sherlock feared the day their baby was to come to this world something happened. And he was sure he was going to be by Jane's side, he was going to take her hand and he was going to help her go through this. They will make it.

"Let's go inside. There's something I want to show you," said Sherlock, getting both to their feet and walking with Jane back to the house.

It was the last room upstairs. The door was white and as soon as Sherlock opened it, Jane caught her breath.

"This was my first room. When I was born my parents bought this house and we came here every other summer when they were not working or when the chosen destination wasn't any other European country," said Sherlock, removing a white sheet from over an old, wooden, old fashioned cot.

"It's beautiful, Sherlock."

The walls were light blue painted, the furniture was old, posh but covered with dust. Close to the windows was a bed with some teddy bears over it. The duvet was blue with stamped bees. Sherlock sat on that bed and took one bear in his hands. "I remember being here, in this same bed when I was ten and mother telling me this bed would one day belong to my children."

Jane sat next to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And what did you think then?"

"I thought I would never have children. That there will never be a woman who would love me enough to want to have children with me."

"Why you thought that?"

"Because I was _The Freak_. Every kid my age looked at me as if I was an alien, someone they shouldn't be allowed to be close to," explained Sherlock and then turned to look into Jane's blue eyes. "But when you came along, I knew you were the one."

Jane cupped his face with her soft hands and kissed him. "Sherlock..."

"More than ten years later I'm sitting on this same bed with my wife and I already have a son and another one coming soon," he said and leaned close to Jane for another kiss. "And I'll do everything within my power to make you and our children happy. You deserve the best. And I'll always be by your side. You don't need to be afraid, because I'll be here. You already are a wonderful mother to our son. You'll as good as you are when the new baby comes."

They shared a thigh hug and a deep kiss when Jane pressed a hand to his chest, close to his heart. "I wants us to live here when the new baby comes."

"Of course."

Later that day Sherlock and Jane went out for a walk. They walked for a little while since Jane was tired. Sherlock showed her the places where he liked to play on, where he liked to hide from Mycroft and where he liked to find things to do some experiments. He told her some tales and episodes from his childhood and Jane listened at him carefully, memorising all his words and looking at the place trying to imagine a little Sherlock playing there, doing small experiments with leaves from different trees and just being a little child.

"This place is lovely. Can we come back soon? I'm sure Hamish will love it too."

Sherlock nodded. "Sure. You want to go back now?"

"Yes. I'd like to call Elizabeth and Richard and see how Hamish is doing. I miss him."

"I miss him too. I hope my parents are following my instructions. I don't want them to spoil Hamish."

Jane giggled. "What makes you think they are spoiling Hamish?"

"I know them. I'm sure they had taken him to some big toy store to buy him toys he doesn't need. And I had told them about Hamish and candies. I don't want to go back and see he has some dental damage."

Jane giggled the whole way back. However, once they were back they called Sherlock's parents and found out Sherlock was right. Hamish was already on bed sleeping after a long day out, visiting some toys shops, the zoo, and Elizabeth and Richard had even taken him to visit some of their acquaintances and friends. Richard assured Sherlock they had given Hamish proper food and neither candies nor cakes. Jane finished the call saying they were coming back tomorrow and that they missed Hamish deadly.

"I told you they were okay."

"Hmm."

Jane looked at the kitchen and sighed. "Is there any place we can go out and eat something? I'm sorry, but I don't feel like cooking."

They went to a nice cozy pub just a few minutes walk from the house. They place was not crowded and it was a calm night. They sat together in one table near the windows and asked for pasta, water for Jane and wine for Sherlock. They talked about Hamish, about his progress and about the things they wanted for him such as possible schools for him. Jane wanted him to practise some sport and Sherlock wanted him to learn music.

"This is our honeymoon and we're talking about schools and violin lessons," said Jane with a smile.

"I thought we would discuss the procures regarding Baker Street."

"Procedures?"

Sherlock nodded sipping his wine. "Once the new baby comes."

"He won't be able to sleep in the room upstairs with Hamish, at least not during the firsts months. If he cries he will wake up Hamish and then we'll have not only a baby but also Hamish up in one same night," Jane made a pause and then looked at Sherlock. "I think it will be wise to place the cot in our room." The young detective didn't say anything and Jane continued. "It'll be better so if he cries we'll right there for, you know, if he needs a new nappy or if he's hungry. Are you even listening?"

"Yes. But in the case of you getting pregnant again, we'll need a bigger flat."

"I suppose so, yes."

"I'm sure Mrs Hudson —"

"No, Sherlock. You won't kick Mrs Hudson out of Baker Street."

He looked at her somehow hurt by her assumption. "I wasn't going to kick her out! I was thinking about buying the whole building. She can move to the country house as she always dreamt of. And it will do marvelous things for her hip."

"I don't know. I'm not even sure of what will happen after this pregnancy. Don't get your hopes up too high, Sherlock."

Sherlock decided to change the subject. "We haven't discussed any names yet."

"Hmm. I think we need to think about names for girls too."

"But it's a boy."

"We don't know for sure..."

"It's a boy," repeated Sherlock. "I know it's a boy."

"Okay then. But I'll like to think at least one for a baby girl."

They left soon after they had finished dinner by Jane's request because she knew even being full, she would ask for something sweet such as cake and she had to take care of her diet.

On the way back to their new house, they held each other's hand while discussing baby names.

"I like 'David'," suggested Jane as she lay down next to Sherlock. "It means 'blessed'"

"I like Benedict."

Jane kissed his cheek. "Remember how much we tried for this baby?"

"Yes."

"I think we even tried eating that weird food we found on the internet website, remember? asked Jane with a smile.

Sherlock kissed her. "But now we know how to do it next time."

Jane yawned tiredly and snuggled against Sherlock. Her baby bump tightly pressed against Sherlock's side. "Sherlock, about the baby's name, I think we'll know once he's born."

"You want to wait then?"

"Yes. I'm sure once he's in our arms we'll know his name."

Sherlock placed a hand on her hip and started pulling at her nightdress. "Whatever you want."

"I love you, Sherlock," said Jane, feeling Sherlock's strong hands on the small of her back, puling her closer.

He deepened the kiss and felt Jane's tiny moans on his mouth. "Can't put into words how much I love you. How much I need you."

"If you can't put it into words..." whispered Jane. "Why don't you try to say it differently?"

Sherlock curled his lips and then kissed Jane again. He had in mind a proper, nice and sexy way to prove Jane how much he loved her.


	67. Lips Like Sugar

The following day both woke up very late. They were so comfy, so warm in each other's arms they didn't want to leave the bed at all. But soon Jane's stomach reminded them both she was pregnant and that she needed to eat for two now. Jane cooked and both had lunch together outside under the sun.

"You never told me about this house, Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head. "I asked you to come with me once."

"Really?"

"Hmm."

Jane immediately knew why she didn't remember. She was with Sam in those times when Sherlock asked her if she would go with him to his country house for a weekend. "I'm so sorry Sherlock."

"I was determined to tell you about my feelings for you," confessed Sherlock, not looking at Jane but focusing on her baby bump. "I was to have told you I loved you."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," said she as she leaned closer to kiss him. "Please forgive me."

He kissed her. "It doesn't matter now."

"We're together now."

"We are."

A moment afterwards lunch, Sherlock took his old bike and helped Jane to sit on the handle bars. He rode slowly and carefully along the fields, the trees close to their new house feeling the warm, soft wind mess with their hair. Jane giggled all the time, and both talked and remembered about the times they used to ride their bikes in their old neighbourhood when they were teenagers.

Later, they packed their clothes and got themselves ready to go back to London when Sherlock got phone call from a painting collector who needed him to find a very important painting missing from his own house.

'The Reichenbach Falls' was indeed a very famous, important painting that had been lost (Sherlock knew it had been originally stolen) from a recognised painting collector who wanted it back. As the collector had a high security system, he was speechless as to whom could have possibly taken the painting and how. The man offered Sherlock a high sum of money in exchange of his services as private detective. Sherlock knew the case was simple and he only needed to take a look at the place where the painting had been taken from to know who did it. He had to admit he was missing the sensation of facing a case, solving a crime, or a mystery and prove everyone how clever he was.

"Come with me."

Jane hesitated for a bit. "I don't know if I should."

"It's an easy case. I'll only interrogate a few people, the collector and his butler only and we'll have everything wrapped up soon."

"Okay."

As Sherlock said, the butler had taken the painting. He was the only one who could have known the passcode to unlock the security system, and being someone very close to his employer and after spending many years by his side, the butler knew the importance of the painting in the market and its price. But the case didn't finish there. The painting collector, the man who hired Sherlock, held a party in order to show his incredible painting was back again in his possession and lots of photographers and journalists were there. Sherlock and Jane posed for some pictures, a little bit reluctantly, and the following day both could see their faces printed in the first page of the criminal section.

"Mummy and daddy!"

Jane giggled. "Yes, Hamish. Mummy and daddy are in the papers."

" _'Reichenbach hero Sherlock Holmes poses for the press with his wife, Jane Holmes. Both had got married a few days ago_ — _'_ how do they know?" asked Sherlock, reading one of the many lines some papers have written about him and Jane.

" _'Consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and his assistant and wife Jane Holmes pose with missing painting'_ " read Jane. "I look like a cow in this picture!"

Mrs Hudson smiled. "Well, you'll have more cases then, Sherlock."

"I think you should just... look for a little case this week and keep a low profile."

"Why?"

"You're not a private detective anymore, Sherlock. You're just this far from famous. And the press will turn. They always turn. And they'll turn on you."

Sherlock frowned. "You're upset. Why what people think about me would upset you?"

"Because I love you."

Sherlock didn't pay attention to Jane's words. But their landlady was right because a few days after being in practically every newspaper Sherlock wouldn't stop getting phone calls from people asking for his help. From very normal to very important people, everyone seemed to need a Consulting Detective. And Sherlock needed an assistant. And that person was Jane. Every now and then she would go with him to talk to witnesses, take some evidence, etcetera.

That's how everyone around the country knew there was a man named Sherlock Holmes who worked as 'Private Detective' though according to his words he was a 'Consulting Detective, the only one in the world because he invented the job'. Soon he had several cases to work on and the offers were good. The payment was good enough to even take a case and stop working for at least a year. Though Sherlock never cared about money, this time he knew it was something important to considerate since he had now a family to take care of and look after.

However, Sherlock not always worked. Sometimes he rejected some cases to stay at home with Jane and Hamish and enjoy his family. They even went back to the house Sherlock's parents had given them as a wedding present and where they had spent their little honeymoon. They took Hamish with them and the little boy loved it. Hamish even said he wanted to live there and have a dog too but Jane had to explain to him they couldn't because she was studying and Sherlock had work in the city, but that they could go back as many times as they wanted and as many times as they could.

"We'll come here when the new baby comes," said Jane to Hamish.

Hamish kissed Jane's belly. "Want new baby now!"

"We still need to wait three more moths, Hamish," explained Sherlock.

A few days later, Jane and Sherlock decided to place the crib, a small wardrobe for the baby clothes, and the nappies and bottles in their room. They knew the new baby will probably wake them up in the middle of the night, therefore, his or her crying will also wake up Hamish. And they weren't going to be able to afford having two children awake in the middle of the night. And both wanted their baby to be close to them, at least for the first months, until they could sort things out.

Elizabeth and Mrs Hudson made themselves sure Jane and Sherlock had everything they could possibly need; enough nappies, enough toys, enough formula just in case Jane couldn't breastfeed the baby, enough knitted little jumpers and enough soft sheets and duvets for the crib. Their baby was due to come very soon, just in three more months!

"You should spend a few weeks with us," suggested Elizabeth. "The maids will keep everything clean and I can hire the perfect nanny for Hamish and the baby too."

"We really appreciate your offer, Elizabeth. But we'll be fine here, and they will hardly need a nanny. I prefer to look after them myself."

Sherlock glanced at his mother. "We are perfectly capable to look after our children."

"I know you are. I was only offering you our support."

And that's how Sherlock and Jane were getting ready to welcome their second child. Even when knowing it was a bit early, Jane prepared a bag with some clothes for her and for the baby. When Sherlock asked, she told him it was the bag she was meant to take with her to hospital when the new baby came.

* * *

Lestrade sat on his chair and lifted his legs and rest them over his desk. He let out a deep, long sigh and smiled to himself. He had a coffee in one hand and a croissant in the other. And his shift started very well. It was almost something unique. The 'criminal classes', as Sherlock liked to call criminals and so on had been very quite. The morning was calm and all Greg wanted was to drink his coffee and eat his croissant and then he knew he could be happy for the rest of the morning.

He even considered calling Sherlock and going to some good pub, have a few pints and try to catch some nice woman's eye.

Wait.

Sherlock Holmes, pubs and pints?

Greg shook his head. He knew Sherlock was not that type. He could have a pint of two, surely. But trying to catch some woman's attention sitting next to Sherlock Holmes was not an option. Greg knew that going with Sherlock to some pub could only end up with him on his sofa, alone in his own house, and lonely.

As soon as Greg munched a nice bit of his croissant and took a sip of his coffee, the youngest of his team opened the door of his office. And she had a strange, nervous look on her face.

"It's been a break in."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Not our division."

But the young woman seemed to be excited. "You'll want this case. Believe me."

Some bloody idiot broke into the Tower of London.

* * *

Hamish took his favourite book and got close to his father. "Daddy, read."

"Not now," said Sherlock, softly, still working on his microscope. "I need to prove Lestrade this man didn't commit suicide and then Jane has an scheduled ultrasound."

"Whats swuicide?"

"It's 'suicide'. It's when someone kills themselves," explained Sherlock.

Jane walked into the kitchen wrapped with Sherlock's blue nightgown and a towel around her shoulders after having a bath. She kissed Sherlock's cheek and sat on her armchair, placing both hands on her prominent belly and letting out a deep sigh. "I don't like Hamish learning the meaning of those words."

"He asked."

* * *

Lestrade was driving frenetically, he could still feel the bitter sweet taste the coffee had left on his mouth when his phone went off and the youngest of his team picked up the call.

"Tell them we're coming!"

But Sally Donovan's eyes were as wide as saucers. "There's been another break in... Bank of England!"

Oh God-

"Another one... Pentonville Prison!"

Great.

Detective Inspector Lestrade's idea of leaving his office early and going to a pub for a pint or two vanished in the air.

* * *

"Just... try not to tell him."

Hamish was soon distracted playing with his toys in his playpen and Jane was looking at her latests scans when Sherlock's phone went off. "I'm six months pregnant, I suppose the doctors will tell me now if it's a boy or a girl."

"It's a boy," replied Sherlock, not looking at her and still working on his microscope.

"It'll be a little girl and you'll spoil her," Jane grinned. "I'm sure you will."

"Hmm."

Jane continued reading some papers of her latests scans and and some medical tests. "The doctor said it'll be a normal delivery. I'll ask the doctor if you can be there too _**—**_ well, if you want."

"Of course I'll be there with you."

Jane was rubbing her baby bump when Sherlock's phone went off again.

"Sherlock, your phone."

"Mmm. It keeps doing that," replied he.

Jane got to her feet with a little bit of difficulty and took Sherlock's phone. "I'll take it, shall I?"

She thought it might be her dad, Lestrade, offering Sherlock a new case, or it could also be Mycroft or maybe Sherlock's parents. Jane did not imagine _he_ was the one texting Sherlock.

Jane felt her heart beating faster within her chest, her legs shaking and pressing a hand to her baby bump, she felt it as hard as a rock.

"Sherlock..."

"Mmm?"

Jane held Sherlock's phone in her hand. "Sherlock..."

"Not now, I'm close to _**—**_ "

"Sherlock, _he_ 's back."

When Sherlock looked into Jane's panicking eyes and when he read the text he couldn't believe it.

_**Come and play.** _

_**Tower Hill.** _

_**Jim Moriarty x.** _


	68. GET SHERLOCK

Lestrade showed Jane and Sherlock the recorded security footage. As soon as Sherlock saw James Moriarty breaking the glass, he knew this time was different. This time Moriarty made everything under the sunlight. Now everyone knew about him, that he was a criminal mastermind. And breaking into the three most secure places in the country had not been deliberately.

There was a plan.

GET SHERLOCK.

Moriarty then smashed a fire extinguisher against the glass.

* * *

Suddenly everyone was talking about James Moriarty. Every newspaper had their first pages and covers printed with his name and his picture. Everyone knew who he was but yet no one could explain how he managed to break into the three most secure places in the country; the Tower of London, Pentonville Prison and the Bank of England.

Even Sherlock and Jane's name were on the papers too, since there were pictures of Jim writing 'GET SHERLOCK' on the glass at the Tower of London attracted all the media's attention. Many newspapers, journalists and the international media tried to get any words from them. Jane wasn't able to go to class as there were photographers and journalists outside Baker Street, all of them waiting for them and to get something out about James Moriarty and what they called was 'The Crime of the Century'.

A few days later, Sherlock had been called to testify against James Moriarty in court. That morning, Jane was finishing getting dressed when Sherlock looked into her eyes through the mirror in the sitting room.

"Ready?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes."

When Jane opened the door, several police officers were close to them, trying to hold the journalist back from them so they could get into the police car Lestrade had sent them.

"Remember **_-_** "

"Yes."

"Remember **_-_** "

"Yes."

Jane let out a long sigh. "Remember what they told you. Don't try to be clever."

"No."

"And please, just keep it simple and brief."

"I'll just be myself," replied Sherlock, not looking at her.

"Are you listening to me?"

When they arrived, Jane immediately met with Lestrade who had arrived before when Sherlock went to the toilets.

"You're him," said a red haired woman wearing a deerstalker hat, the very same one Sherlock had been lately related to by the press, and dropping her bag to the floor in amazement.

"Wrong toilet."

"I'm a big fan."

Sherlock turned to see her. "Evidently."

"I read your cases. Followed them all," said she, getting close to him and offering him a pen as she opened her coat, revealing her opened blouse. "Sign my shirt, would you?"

"There are two types of fans."

"Oh?"

"'Catch me before I kill again', type A."

The woman smiled. "What's type B?"

"'Your bedroom's just a taxi ride away'"

"Guess which one I am."

Sherlock let his eyes run down on her body. "Neither."

"Really?"

"You're not a fan at all. Those marks on your forearm -edge of a desk. You've been typing in a hurry, probably. Pressure on **_-_** facing a deadline."

"That all?" asked the woman, slightly disappointed.

"And there's a smudge of ink on your wrist; and a bulge in your left jacket pocket. The smudge is deliberate, to see if I'm as good as they say I am," Sherlock took her wrist and sniffed it. "Oil-based **_-_** used in newspaper print, but drawn on with an index finger; _your_ finger. Journalist. Unlikely you'd get your hands dirty at the press. You put that there to test me."

"Wow, I'm liking you!"

"You mean I'd make a great feature, 'Sherlock Holmes **_-_** the man beneath the hat'"

The woman smiled and offered her hand. "Kitty... Riley. Pleased to meet you."

"No. I'm just saving you the trouble of asking. No, I won't give you an interview and no, I don't want the money."

When Sherlock tried to leave the toilet room, Kitty stepped in front of him. She was decided not to let him go.

"About you and Jane Watson **_-_** is it true you were arrested for domestic violence? Can I put you down for a "no" there, as well? There's all sorts of gossip in the press about you. Sooner or later you're gonna need someone on your side," said Kitty as she placed a business card into his breast pocket. "Someone to set the record straight."

Sherlock smiled sarcastically. "And you think you're the girl for that job, do you?"

"I'm smart. And you can trust me, totally," said she, confidently.

"Smart, okay, investigative journalist. Good. Well, look at me and tell me what you see," said Sherlock, stepping back and looking at her from head to toes. "If you're that skilful, you don't need an interview. You can just _read_ what you need," Kitty looked at him confused. "No? Okay, my turn. I look at you and I see someone who's still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them. You're wearing an expensive skirt but it's been re-hemmed twice **_-_** only posh skirt you've got. And your nails, you can't afford to do them that often. I see someone who's hungry. I don't see smart, and I _definitely_ don't see trustworthy, but I'll give you a quote if you like **_-_** three little words," said he, taking her small dictaphone from her pocket and holding it close to his mouth. "You... repel... me."

He left the room not turning back to see her again.

* * *

Jane was sitting in the dock opposite Sherlock, in front of the judge and jury. She felt her spine practically burning; the pain was almost unbearable and the baby was kicking far too much. Pressing a hand to her baby bump, Jane made a futile attempt to made her baby stop kicking, but it wouldn't stop.

Sherlock was in front of her, and he was standing in the witness box, not only facing Jim Moriarty again after years, but also a jury and a not so patient judge too.

"A 'Consulting criminal'," said the prosecuting barrister.

"Yes."

"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?"

"James Moriarty is for hire."

The prosecutor looked at him confused. "A tradesman?"

"Yes."

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating **_-_** "

But Sherlock cut her off. "No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination. But I'm sure he's make a pretty decent job of your boiler."

Some people laughed. Jane sighed tiredly while rubbing her baby bump.

"Would you describe him as **_-_** "

"Can't do that. You're leading the witness."

The judge rolled his eyes. "Mister Holmes."

"Ask me how. _How_ would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?"

The barrister looks down. " _How_ would you describe this man **_-_** his character?"

"First mistake," said Sherlock as he looked into Moriarty's eyes. "James Moriarty isn't a man at all. He's a _spider_. A spider at the centre of a web, a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances."

"And how long **_-_** "

Sherlock closed his eyes. "No, no, don't do that. That's really not a good question."

The judge looked at him angrily this time. "Mister Holmes."

"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun and he tried to blow my wife and me up," explained Sherlock and then added sarcastically. "I felt we had a special something."

"Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" asked the judge.

"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample."

"Mister Holmes, that's a matter for the jury."

Sherlock smiled at the judge. "Oh really?"

As soon as he said that, Jane pressed a hand to her eyes. She felt nervous and the baby wouldn't stop kicking. She had to fight the need of jumping over Sherlock to tell him to shut up and just be brief and not to be clever as she had warned him before.

However, Sherlock quickly deduced all the members of the jury's jobs, their affairs and what they had for breakfast.

"Mister Holmes. You've been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess! Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt. Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without _showing off_?" hissed the judge, angrily.

When Sherlock replied what he was able to deduce about him, the judge immediately called the police officers and ordered to keep Sherlock into one of the cells for a few hours.

* * *

As soon as Sherlock met Jane's tired, disappointed look, he signed off some papers after his release and took his possessions that had been taking off him when he was put into a cell.

"What did I say? I said 'Don't get clever'," said Jane as she took his hand and both left the place.

"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap. Well?"

Jane shrugged. "Well that?"

"You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish."

"Thought you were asking for us," said she, pressing a hand to her baby bump, still feeling the baby kicking when they got into a cab and headed back to Baker Street. "Like you said it would be. He sat on his backside, never even stirred."

"Moriarty's not mounting any defence."

"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and a few days ago Moriarty breaks in, no one knows how or why," said Jane, sitting on her armchair and letting out a deep, tired sigh. "All we know is **_-_** "

"He ended up in custody."

Jane closed her eyes and sighed. "Don't do that."

Sherlock turned to see her. "Do what?"

"The look."

"Look?"

"You're doing that look again!"

"Well, I can't see it, can I?" Jane pointed at the mirror and Sherlock turned to look at his reflection. "It's my face."

"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a 'we both know what's really going on here' face. That same face you did when you said this," said Jane, pointing at her baby bump. "Is a baby boy," explained Jane.

"Well, _we_ do know what's going on."

Jane shook her head. "No. _I_ don't, which is why I find 'The Face' so annoying."

"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he _chose_ to be there. Somehow this is part of his scheme."

"I'm going to bed," said Jane, getting to her feet. "I'm tired. Mrs Hudson says she will keep Hamish for the night. Good night."

Sherlock reached out her hand and kissed it. "Are you okay?"

"Just **_-_** get some rest, will you?"

Since Moriarty appeared in their lives again, Sherlock had been very tense for the past days. He barely ate. He barely smiled or laughed as he had always done. As they were hardly able to leave their flat without a member of the press following them and asking about Moriarty, Jane had to stay home to lie down and have some rest. She observed that during those afternoons she had to lie down Hamish was sent to Mrs Hudson's by the same Sherlock as he wasn't able to focus on any other thing but on Moriarty. Sherlock had also been distant to Jane. Now he slept on the sofa saying he couldn't sleep and that he needed to think.

"Goodnight, love."

Jane turned to leave and go to their room when she returned and kissed Sherlock's lips. "Come to bed, Sherlock."

"I don't want to sleep."

"It's been days since you last talked to me **_-_** since you last touched me. Please, Sherlock," begged Jane and tried to kiss his lips, but Sherlock stepped back.

"I can't. I need to think."

Without saying a word, Jane turned and left him alone with his thoughts.

Sherlock knew this time Moriarty was not simply playing a game. This time James Moriarty was back and he was back to complete his scheme. Everything was part of a scheme, Moriarty spend some days in prison and it was not something done deliberately. Moriarty had a purpose this time.

And Sherlock started fearing for his own family; Hamish, the new baby coming soon and Jane.

* * *

The following day, Jane was sitting at the Old Bailey. Moriarty's defence didn't call any witnesses. Moriarty was offering no evidence.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which, if he's found guilty, will elicit a very long custodial sentence; and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty," said the judge.

What shocked Jane the most was the jury's verdict.

"'Not Guilty'. They found him 'Not Guilty'. No defence, and Moriarty's walked free... Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out. You **_-_** you know he'll be coming after you. Sherlock, call Mycroft and tell him to take Hamish out of the flat... Sherlock?"

Sherlock finished the call.

He was right. This was part of a scheme. A scheme that not only included him but his own family as well.


	69. IOU

Hamish was peacefully playing with his toys in the sitting room when Sherlock slammed a tray to the counter and put the kettle on. Milk, sugar, cups, saucers, teaspoons - everything had to be ready.

After the kettle boiled, Sherlock took Hamish in his arms and kissed his forehead. "Go to your room and stay there."

"But daddy **_-_** "

"Stay there. Don't leave your room until I say so, okay?" Hamish nodded a bit sadly. "It's for your own good," explained Sherlock as he watched his son walking to his room.

Sherlock placed the tray over the small table close to the armchairs and picked up his violin from the sofa and started playing Bach's Sonata No. One in G Minor. While playing, Sherlock heard the front door being open, Mrs Hudson was not at home, but it wasn't her. Then, a pair of feet walking along the hall and up the stairs. Those steps weren't Mrs Hudson's, nor Jane's. They would have never lock-picked the front door. There were seventeen steps to walk, but when the intruder stepped on the seventh, the crack sound made Sherlock stop his music.

But then he continued.

Once the door was open, Sherlock put his violin down. "Most people knock. But then you're not most people I suppose. Kettle just boiled."

Jim stepped in and picked an apple from the bowl on the coffee table. Those were the apples Jane bought for Hamish. "Johann Sebastian would be appalled," said Jim, softly and started looking at his surroundings. "May I?"

"Please," said Sherlock, finally turning to face him and gesturing him Jane's armchair with his bow, but Jim sat on his armchair. Sherlock started to pour tea into the two cups when Jim sat on his chair.

"You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end."

"And the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it," completed Sherlock.

Jim nodded. "Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody."

"Neither can you. That's why you've come."

"But be honest, you're just a tiny bit pleased."

Sherlock took his cup. "What, with the verdict?"

"With me," said Moriarty softly, taking the offered cup from Sherlock's hand. "back on the streets. Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain _. You_ need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I - except you're boring; you've got yourself a wifey and a toddler. You're on the side of the angels."

Sherlock sat in front of him on Jane's armchair. "Got to the jury, of course."

"I got into the Tower of London, you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms? Cable hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen and every person has their pressure point... someone that they want to protect from harm **_-_** their families **_-_** You understand them, don't you? Easy-peasy."

"So how are you going to do it... burn me?"

Jim leaned forward. "Oh, that's the problem - the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem? I did tell you... but did you listen?" said Jim Moriarty, almost like singing.

Moriarty pressed a hand to his knee and started typing with his first two fingers. Sherlock saw this but didn't say anything as he sipped his tea. Moriarty's eyes were fixated on the toys left on the floor behind Sherlock. "I've known you since you were just a kid solving crimes with that little girl who's your wife now. Don't you find it annoying?"

"Don't you dare to say her name," snapped Sherlock.

Jim grinned. "Playing 'daddy' with her child? That's so noble of you _."_

"This is between you and me."

"Now the sweet Jane is pregnant. Tell me, will that baby ever meet its father?" Jim looked into Sherlock's eyes. "How hard do you find it, having to say I don't know'?" asked Jim, sarcastically.

Sherlock put his cup back to its saucer. "I don't know."

"See? You know you won't escape from me. And that's clever, that's very clever; _awfully_ clever. Speaking of clever, have you told your little family yet?"

"Told them what?"

"Why I broke into all those places and never took anything."

"No."

Jim smiled. "But _you_ understand."

"Obviously."

"Off you go, then."

 _"_ You want me to tell you what you already know?" asked Sherlock.

"No. I want you to _prove_ that you know it."

"You didn't take anything because you don't _need_ to."

Jim continued working on the apple with his penknife. "Good."

"You'll never need to take anything ever again."

"Very good. Because...?"

Sherlock looked into Moriarty's dark eyes. "Because nothing, _nothing_ in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three."

"I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now **_-_** they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy. I _own_ secrecy. Nuclear codes... I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king and honey, you should _see_ me in a crown," said Jim, calmly, with a macabre smile in his face.

"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do," said Sherlock.

Jim nodded. "And you were helping. Big client list, rogue governments, intelligence communities, terrorist cells. They all want me. Suddenly, I'm Mr. Sex."

"If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?"

"I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. 'Daddy loves me the best!' Aren't _ordinary_ people adorable? Well, you know. You've got Jane. I should get myself a live-in one."

Sherlock's heart beat faster when James Moriarty mentioned Jane's name. "Why are you doing all of this?"

Jim spotted a little boy standing on the doorway of the living room and he smiled. That smile was macabre as he watched the little boy walking a few steps into the living room to get close to his daddy.

"It'd be so funny..."

"You don't want money or power – not really. What is it all for?"

Jim leaned forward. "I want to solve the problem - _our_ problem, the final problem. It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock. The fall. Don't be scared," said Jim, smiling at Hamish. When Sherlock turned to see his child, Hamish was already curiously walking towards Moriarty. "Hello there. You must be Hamish. Come and say hi to uncle Jim," Hamish ran and got close to Jim. He smiled at the child and caressed the boy's fair curls and then looked at his ear and noticed he wasn't wearing the hearing aid he already knew about. "Falling is just like flying except there's a more permanent destination," said Jim, whistling and making a sound of thudding to the ground. "Isn't it, little Hamish?"

Hamish only smiled at the stranger sitting on his daddy's chair and nodded.

"Never liked riddles. And keep your hands off my son!" Sherlock got to his feet and took Hamish's hand sharply, taking the little boy away from Jim's reach.

Jim stood up and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I... _owe_... you."

Moriarty was already two steps from the doorway when he turned and focused on Hamish. "Nice to meet you, Hamish. Enjoy your daddy because you never know when he can just... fall."

Hamish waved his hand and then looked at Sherlock confusedly. "Uwcle Jim?"

"Don't say that."

But Hamish was not wearing his hearing aid. He couldn't listen to his daddy and he turned confused. "That Uwcle Jim?"

"Shut up, Hamish," said Sherlock, a bit angrily this time.

Hamish frowned and tried to press a hand to his hear. "Daddy... that Uwcle Jim?"

"Are you deaf?" hissed Sherlock and pulled at Hamish's arm with more force than necessary. "I told you not to say that and to shut up! Are you stupid? Can't you do as you're told?"

Tears started to fill Hamish's blue eyes. Sherlock had never told him off like that. Hamish had never been yelled at like this and for the first time Hamish feared his own father. It was the first time Sherlock pulled at his arm so fiercely and Hamish couldn't help but cry very loudly. And what hurt the little boy the most was hearing, even when he was deaf on his right ear, his own father calling him 'deaf' and 'stupid'. Hamish was a three year old boy and he might have developmental delay, but he was clever. Hamish was clever and he knew what those words, 'deaf' and 'stupid' meant.

Sherlock felt his heart aching within his chest when he saw Hamish stepping away from him, with tears in his eyes and looking at him with fear. Sherlock knelt and tried to hug Hamish but the boy rejected his tough and stepped back. Soon Sherlock realised Hamish was not wearing his hearing aid. Hamish didn't repeat those words just to annoy him or because he had found it a funny thing to do. Hamish didn't heard him.

"Hamish, I'm sorry."

The little three-year-old boy ran to his room. Sherlock heard the door being slammed and turned to find the apple Jim left. He carved it in the shape of an 'I', an 'O' and an 'U'.

Sherlock sat on Jane's chair and glued his hands together under his chin and looked at Hamish's toys on the floor.

* * *

Jane arrived some time later and found Sherlock sitting alone. She heard Hamish crying in his room. It was time Hamish had his milk and without asking, Jane knew something had happened. There were two cups on the sink. Despite Hamish's loud crying, Sherlock remained on his position on his chair.

She went to her son's room and found Hamish helplessly crying on his bed. His hearing aid was on the floor and his sobs were loud. Jane sat next to him and made him sit too. Hamish was a little bit breathless and his face was a mess. Jane wiped the tears off his face and took him to the bathroom to have a bath so he could calm down. Once he was fully dressed and calm, Jane took him to the kitchen where Sherlock was pouring warm cocoa milk into Hamish's plastic mug and putting some cookies on his favourite plate.

However, Hamish refused to sit and he wanted to be with Jane.

"Hamish, what happened?"

Hamish refused to meet Sherlock's eyes. He only buried his face into Jane's chest and curled his little fingers on her shirt. "Daddy bad..."

"Hamish, I'm sorry," said Sherlock, sitting next to Jane and trying to touch his son, but Hamish rejected his touch.

Jane looked at her husband confusedly and Hamish started crying again. "Daddy said stupid. Daddy said deaf."

"What?!"

"Daddy hurt."

Jane stood up and with Hamish in her arms, she took him to his room before Sherlock could even explain anything. "Stay here, okay? Drink your milk and wait for mummy here."

When Jane went downstairs she kept her distance from Sherlock. The young detective tried to step close to Jane but she stepped backwards. "What happened, Sherlock?"

"James Moriarty was here. He saw Hamish. He introduced himself as 'Uncle Jim'" explained Sherlock. "He repeated it and I tried to make him stop. I didn't realise he was not wearing his hearing aid."

Jane sat on her chair and covered her face with her hands. "You hit him. You hurt our son."

"I wasn't thinking **_-_** "

"You weren't thinking? You called him 'deaf' and 'stupid'!" hissed Jane, angrily. "He knows the meaning of those words, Sherlock! You hurt his feelings!"

"I didn't meant to, I'm sorry! Jane, you've got to believe me," begged Sherlock, trying to get close to Jane, but she refused his touch again.

Those old _fears_ were back. Jane pressed a hand to her belly and felt her baby kicking. The baby was kicking very hard and it was hurting her. Little tears started to fell down her blue, tired eyes and Jane didn't know what to do. Everything had been so perfect, they were a family, they were happy. But since James Moriarty was back in their lives all her hopes were on the bin again. Suddenly Sherlock stopped caring, he stopped sleeping with her, sharing the bed, he stopped caressing her belly and asking to feel their baby kicking inside her. It felt like ages since he last touched her and for the first time in months Jane felt Sherlock very distant from her and when she needed him the most.

It hurt her to see their son crying and fearing Sherlock, his own father. Sherlock had called Hamish 'deaf' and 'stupid'. It broke Jane's heart. This whole situation was destroying her family and Jane felt she didn't have more strength. Jane felt she couldn't fight anymore.

Jane didn't say a word and silently went to their room where she took an empty bag and started filling it with some clothes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving. And Hamish comes with me," replied Jane, not looking at him at all.

Sherlock reached out her hand and tried to kiss her, but Jane moved her face away. "Jane, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm sorry love."

"I know you didn't mean it."

"Then why are you leaving me?"

"He made you hurt us once. I won't let him do it twice. I've got two children and I need to protect them - from him and from _you_."

"I'm sorry," said Sherlock on his knees, with both hands on her baby bump. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, I'm begging you. Don't leave me."

Jane shook her head. "You're tense and nervous and the only thing in your mind is Moriarty. And we both know to what that leads, what it does to your brain. I don't want us to be close to you when _that_ happens."

"I won't relapse."

"Sherlock, I understand this is what makes you feel excited **_-_** the thrill, the mystery, the game. If you want to play with James Moriarty go and do whatever you want. But don't expect us to join the game."

Sherlock tried to kiss her, but Jane rejected him. "Jane **_-_** "

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I can't do this anymore, I just can't. I know I promised I'd always be by your side" whispered Jane and Sherlock nodded. "But we've got two children and they will always come first. They come first before anything in my life. Even _you_."

Jane and Hamish left Baker Street.

And Sherlock realised where Jim Moriarty's game was leading him to.


	70. Hansel and Gretel

Jane took Hamish with her and they went to Elizabeth and Richard's. Jane's parents-in-law were very happy to have them in their big house as they always complained it was too big for themselves. As they knew all about James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes, and they had read the papers, Jane told them she and Hamish needed some fresh air because there were still journalists on their doorstep and she needed to go to uni. Jane hated lying to them when they were so good to her and her family, but she didn't want them to know about what Sherlock did and about her fears. So far, Sherlock's parents didn't know the real relationship between Moriarty and Sherlock. To them, Jim Moriarty was a criminal that ought to be stopped but that was all. They didn't know Moriarty had been the one behind her kidnapping and that Moriarty's real plan was destroying Sherlock Holmes.

Jane and Hamish slept on Sherlock's old room. Jane lay on her old side of the bed and placed Hamish next to her. The little boy was not used to that big house, not even when he had been there a few times by now and the first nights were difficult for Hamish to fall asleep normally as he was not used to that room.

"I miss daddy," whispered Hamish.

"Hamish, daddy _never_ meant what he said. He was a bit... nervous. He doesn't think you're 'deaf' and 'stupid', okay?"

Hamish nodded. "I want daddy. I want to go 'ome."

"Me too. But we'll have to stay here for a while. Sorry baby."

Jane spent nearly a week at Sherlock's old house. Sherlock texted her several times each day. He always asked how were they, how was Hamish, the baby, when they will be back and that he missed them a lot.

_**I miss you. SH** _

**_We miss you too. JH_ **

**_I love you. Please come back. SH_ **

**_I love you. JH_ **

A few days later Jane was at a cashpoint machine when she tried to type her pin and a black car pulled close to her. Mycroft was again requesting her presence on his office. A bit reluctantly, Jane got in and soon she was taken to a very posh place where she had never been to before.

"Er, excuse me. Um, I'm looking for Mycroft Holmes?"

Jane was in what looked like a big room where some old men were reading newspapers, books or simply staring at the wall in front of them. None of them were facing each other or pronouncing a word. Not even moving more than necessary.

None answered her question.

"Would you happen to know if he's around at all?"

None answered her. None looked at her at all.

"Can you not hear me?" Jane looked at the old men and started feeling annoyed. "Yes, all right. Anyone? Anyone at all know where Mycroft Holmes is? I've been asked to meet him here. No talkers? Right. Am I invisible? I don't think so, I look like a whale - Can you actually see me?" asked she, a bit angrily this time.

Soon two men wearing dress coats walked into the room. They were wearing also white gloves and white overshoes to muffle their footsteps when they took Jane's arms and dragged her out the room "I've been asked to meet Mycroft Holmes... What the- hey!"

They dragged her out the room, but they were soft on her because she was a lady and she was pregnant. Soon, Jane found herself in a different office and Mycroft Holmes, her only brother-in-law, was standing in front of her and gesturing her to sit down.

"Tradition, Jane. Our tradition define us."

Jane laughed sarcastically. "So total silence is traditional, isn't it? They dragged me here as if I were a-a-a bin bag! I'm pregnant!"

"I'm sure they had been careful."

Jane glanced at the newspaper on the small table. "You read this stuff?"

"Caught my eye," admitted Mycroft. It had a picture of Sherlock and there was a big headline covering most of his face. 'SHERLOCK: THE SHOCKING TRUTH"

Jane looked at the cover carefully. There was a picture of a red haired woman she had seen the day Sherlock was called as a witness in James Moriarty's case. "I'd love to know where she got her information."

"Someone called 'Brook'. Recognise the name?"

"Not at all. Might be someone from school?"

Mycroft laughed and sat in front of Jane. "That's not why I asked you here," he said as he handed her some folders.

Jane opened the first one and looked at the photograph on the first page. It was a thin woman. "Who's that?"

"Don't know her?"

"No."

"Never seen her face before?"

Jane frowned and focused on the photograph again. "Um... no."

"She's taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you."

"I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours," said Jane with a fake smile. "But in my current state..."

Mycroft smiled. "Dyachenko, Ludmila. Russian killer. She's taken the flat opposite."

"It's a great location. Jubilee line's handy."

"Jane -"

"What's it got to do with me?"

Mycroft handed Jane more folders. "Sulejmani."

"Um, actually, I think I have seen him," said Jane, looking at the photograph on that folder. It was a tall, well built man wearing a dark leather jacket and dark sunglasses.

"Oh, have you seen _him_ then? Interesting."

Jane looked at Mycroft. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing."

"I'm not cheating on your brother."

"That's not what I meant."

"Than what?"

Mycroft shook his head. "Albanian hit squad. Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door."

Jane placed a hand on her baby bump. "Okay. I'm sensing a pattern here."

"In fact, four top international _assassins_ relocate to within spitting distance of two-hundred and twenty-one-B. Anything you care to share with me?"

"I'm moving?" asked Jane with a shrug.

"It's not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?"

"You think this is Moriarty?"

Mycroft nodded. "He promised Sherlock he'd come back."

"If this was Moriarty, we'd be dead already," said Jane, softly. "All of us."

"If not Moriarty, then who?"

Jane rolled her blue eyes. "Why don't you talk to Sherlock if you're so concerned about him? You know we don't live together anymore -" Jane stopped to look at Mycroft. "Oh God, don't tell me."

"Too much history between us, Jane. Old scores, resentments."

"Nicked all his smurfs? Broke his action man?"

"How are you and Hamish? Are you comfortable living with my parents?" asked Mycroft, really concerned.

"Finished. That's not your business."

Mycroft handed Jane another folder. This one had many photographs of Sherlock walking along different streets in London. Jane looked at them confused, those were places she had never been to before.

"He has been wandering along the city these past week. He knows where he can get _it_. He walks past some dealers and yet he never buys _any_."

Jane felt her heart pound hard within her chest. And her baby kicking very hard inside her.

"He needs you," whispered Mycroft, leaning forward on his seat. "You know what he's capable of doing."

"Mycroft -"

"What he had done, he will never do it again. You know he won't."

Jane pressed her fingertips to her eyes, to prevent the tears already trying to fall down her blue eyes. "Hamish misses him so much. He asks for his daddy all the time and I don't know what to tell him anymore. And I miss him too, Mycroft. I love him."

"We both know what's coming, Jane. Moriarty is obsessed. He's sworn to destroy his only rival. Sherlock _needs_ you."

Jane nodded and got to her feet, ready to leave. "So you want me to watch out for your brother because he won't accept your help."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"It will never be too much trouble to watch out for Sherlock," said she, walking to the door. "Good bye, Mycroft."

Mycroft Holmes saw Jane leaving. Soon the smile on his face disappeared.

* * *

Every day without them was difficult. Sherlock wasn't able to go to sleep, and when he was lying on that big bed he felt Jane's side cold, empty and he missed her so much. Sherlock missed her laughter, her warm body next to him every night, her touches, her voice.

And Sherlock missed Hamish too. He missed waking up and finding Hamish already awake, sitting on his chair and waiting for him or his mummy to be up to have breakfast. Sometimes Sherlock would wake up early and he would just go and sit on Hamish's bed and watch him sleeping. Sherlock loved that child, he loved Hamish with all his heart and looking at his toys forgotten on the floor, his favourite mug empty, discarded on the counter, his little clothes, his books hurt. Sherlock missed his laughter, his crying, his tantrums, everything.

That's when Sherlock realised that without them, without Jane and Hamish, he was nothing. Sherlock was and he had nothing if they weren't there. He felt empty again, and that sensation of needing a needle deep buried into one of his arms, and preferably filling his system with cocaine, was close to him. Sherlock had the need, he was craving for it again.

Sherlock walked past some men he knew they sell what he wanted. He knew with a fifty pound note he could get what he was craving for, what could make him forget about the absence of those he loved the most; Jane and Hamish.

But he never got any.

Sherlock walked past those dealers, and he even had that fifty pound note in his pocket, but Sherlock never got any.

Sherlock knew he was not going to relapse. Relapse meant losing them, losing Jane and Hamish and he had already lost them once.

He was not going to lose them twice.

* * *

"Daddy?"

Jane nodded as she helped Hamish to get off the cab. "Yes. We'll see daddy."

Jane looked at the open door and frowned when her eyes found a brown envelope left on the doorstep. There wasn't no names, no addresses, nothing. But when she opened it, she found nothing but dust, bits of something she didn't know what it was and nothing else.

"'Scuse me, miss," said a well built man as he stepped in carrying a stepladder.

"Oh, yes, sorry."

She climbed the stairs with Hamish and found Sherlock typing on his computer. However, he was not alone. Greg Lestrade was also there. And a young woman, a bit older than her.

"Daddy!"

As soon as Hamish saw Sherlock, he ran to him and hugged him tightly. Sherlock stopped working on his computer and knelt to hug his son. "Hello Hamish."

"Missed you!"

"I missed you too."

Sherlock took Hamish in his arms and cuddled him as if he were a little baby. He pressed Hamish tightly to his chest and pressed soft kisses to his hair while Hamish giggled happily in his father's arms. "Daddy stop!"

Greg looked at Jane and then at the young woman. "Jane, she's Sally -"

"Donovan. The rebel girl from school ended up being on the side of the law," said Sherlock, cutting Greg off.

"You know each other?"

Jane nodded as she looked at Sally, but she didn't take the hand Sally offered. "From school."

"Well, I must say congratulations," said Sally, focusing on her belly and then on Hamish.

"Sherlock, what happened?" asked Jane, ignoring her and Greg.

"Kidnapping.".

The ambassador to the United States, who currently was in Washington asked for Sherlock Holmes to be involved in the police team to find his children, Max and Claudette, who had been kidnapped. The children had been taken from the boarding school they attended to and there were no clues left.

"The Reichenbach Hero," said Sally, sarcastically.

Greg smiled. "Isn't it great to be working with a celebrity?"

Sally and Greg left them alone and went downstairs to the police cars when Sherlock hugged Jane and kissed her. It felt like a lifetime for both to be away from each other for a week.

"I missed you."

Jane kissed him again. "I missed you too."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Sherlock pressed a hand softly on her baby bump. "Please Jane, forgive me."

"It's okay. We'll fight this together, okay?"

Sherlock kissed her neck softly with wet kisses. "Nothing will happen to you. I promise."

* * *

At the boarding school, everything was being secured by police officers. Jane felt her heart sunk as she looked at the first room with Sherlock. The room of Claudette, one of the missing children, was lovely. Sherlock looked everywhere for clues, but he found nothing. However, once they were on the boy's room, Max's, Sherlock found what he was looking for. He found not only a copy of 'Grimm's Fairy Tales' and some spy books. There was a particular smell.

"Get Anderson."

A few minutes later, they had to close the windows and turn off the lights and with the help of ultraviolet light on the walls Sherlock found 'HELP US' written with oil.

"Linseed oil."

Anderson looked at him and shrugged. "Not much use. Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper."

"Brilliant, Anderson."

"Really?" asked him, highly surprised by Sherlock's comment.

"Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot. The floor."

There were some footprints of different sizes heading not only to the door but then to the corridor.

"Tells us nothing after all," concluded Anderson.

"You're right, Anderson - nothing. Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace."

Sherlock took his toolkit from inside his pocket and started scraping the wooden material of the floor, trying to get some material to perform the experiments he needed to find out everything he could about those footprints on the floor.

"Having fun?" asked Jane, kneeling as much as her belly and her sore knees allowed her to.

Sherlock nodded. "Starting to."

"Avoid the smiling, Sherlock."

"Why? This is brilliant! A clever boy left traces of his kidnapper -"

"I know," said Jane, letting out a long sigh. "They have been _kidnapped_ , Sherlock. What if this isn't about some ambassador's children? Would you like it if Anderson smiled after Hamish's been kidnapped?"

"No."

"Then, don't do the smiling. It's a _lot_ not good."

* * *

"Molly!"

Molly turned to see Sherlock and Jane behind her. "Oh, hello. I'm just going out. How have you been -"

"No, you're not."

"But... I've got a lunch date," said Molly.

Sherlock showed her some two packs of chips. "Cancel it. You're having lunch with us."

"What?"

"Need your help. A criminal mastermind has kidnapped two children. I need your lab."

Jane frowned confused. "It's Moriarty?"

"Of course it's Moriarty."

They convinced Molly and she let them use her lab and she was willing to help them. After getting Sherlock some chemistry books from the uni library, Molly chatted for a bit with Jane. She asked her about Hamish, about the new baby and how she was doing.

 _"_ Oil. The oil in the kidnapper's footprint – it'll lead us to Moriarty. All the chemical traces on his shoe have been preserved. The sole of the shoe is like a passport. If we're lucky we can see everything that he's been up to," said Sherlock, working on the microscope. "I need that analysis."

"Alkaline," said Molly as she showed Sherlock the results.

"Thank you, Jane."

"Molly."

"Yes," said Sherlock, not really looking at her and still working on the microscope.

So far, Sherlock with the help of Molly and Jane found five different components: chalk, asphalt, brick dust and vegetation. There was a fifth element, but yet he wasn't able to find what it was.

"I... owe... you... Glycerol molecule... what are you?"

Molly stood close to him and started cleaning the table. "What did you mean, 'I owe you'?" Sherlock only looked at her but didn't say anything. "You said 'I owe you'. You were muttering it while you were working."

"Nothing. Mental note."

"You're a bit like my dad. He's dead," soon, when she realised what she had said Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tying to find the proper words to continue. "No, sorry."

"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area."

Molly ignored his words. "When he was... dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely, except when he thought no one could see him. I saw him once. He look sad."

"Molly..."

"You look sad," said Molly, and then she glanced at Jane who was sitting on the other side of the lab reading some papers, rubbing her baby bump with one hand. "when you think she can't see you."

Sherlock's eyes were fixated on Jane and on her baby bump. Seeing her rubbing her belly, Sherlock knew their baby was kicking again. Jane always did that when their baby was kicking and she wanted him to calm down. Jane was not listening to them, she was so focused on the papers Sherlock didn't know if he should say something about Molly's comment.

"Are you okay? And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."

Sherlock looked at her. "You can see me."

"I don't count." Sherlock fixated his eyes on her. "What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me -" Molly cleared her throat and then looked at Sherlock again, _"_ No, I just mean... I mean if there's anything you need... it's fine."

"What could I need from you?"

Molly shrugged. "Nothing. I don't know. You could probably say thank you, actually."

"Thank you," replied Sherlock with hesitation in his voice.

"I'm just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?"

"I -"

Molly shook his head. "It's okay, I know you don't."

"Actually -"

"I know you don't."

Molly left the lab and Sherlock returned to his work when Jane got close to him and showed him a photograph taken from one of the two kidnapped children's room. "Sherlock."

"Hmm?" he pressed a hand on her baby bump and felt their baby kicking.

"This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one," said Jane, handed him the photograph and the brown envelope she had found on their doorstep earlier that day. "Look at that. Exactly the same seal."

"This is breadcrumbs. A little trace of breadcrumbs; hardback copy of fairy tales."

"What does it mean, Sherlock?"

"Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs..."

Jane nodded. "That's 'Hansel and Gretel'. What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?"

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to me..."

_All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain..._

"The fifth substance, it's part of the tale. The witch's house."

"What?" asked Jane, confused.

"It's used in making chocolate."

* * *

Sherlock and Jane went to the Scotland Yard where Greg got a fax. Someone sent a note saying the children were in danger and they now had little time. However, Sherlock knew they needed to find a place in London where they could find chalk, asphalt, brick dust and vegetation. And the fifth element only confirmed it was a chocolate factory. They needed to find an old chocolate factory.

"I've got people out looking."

Greg nodded. "So have I."

"Homeless network - faster than the police. Far more relaxed about taking bribes. Addlestone."

"What?"

Sherlock showed him his phone. "There's a mile of disused factories between the river and the park. It matches everything."

"Right. come on!"

Once in Addlestone, several police officers and a trained squad got into the old chocolate factory. Sherlock and Jane were also there and soon they found empty sweet wrappers all over the floor. Sherlock realised they had been fed with chocolates and that they were also being poisoned.

"Mercury."

"What?"

"The papers: they're painted with mercury," explained Sherlock and Jane sighed sadly. "Lethal. The more of the stuff they ate..."

Jane took Sherlock's hand and squeezed it tightly. "It will kill them."

"The hungrier they got, the more they ate and the faster they died," said Sherlock and chuckled. "Neat."

"Sherlock! That's a lot not good!"

But Sally Donovan found them before they could die.

* * *

Greg Lestrade pointed at Sherlock with his index finger. _"_ Now, remember, she's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to... you know."

"Not be myself."

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "Might be helpful."

As soon as Sherlock stepped into the room, the little girl, Claudette, screamed scared and pointed at Sherlock as if she was accusing him. Greg dragged Sherlock out the office and told him to wait for a moment.

"What happened?" asked Jane worriedly.

"She screamed when she saw me."

Jane looked at him. "Well, you don't look so frightening."

"The kid's traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper," suggested Greg, offering Jane a cup of tea.

"What's she said?"

"Can't talk," replied Sally.

"And the boy?"

Greg shook his head. "No, he's unconscious; still in intensive care."

Sherlock was standing in front of the windows of the office, with his back to Greg, Sally and Jane. He was deep lost in thought and he could hardly heard what they were talking about when he saw the lights of the opposite building turning on, despite it was already very late and the building's usual occupators, such as employees, had left long time ago. The building was empty.

When the lights turned on, Sherlock saw three letters had been painted for him to see.

**_I O U._ **

"Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people," joked Greg and gave Jane a hopeful smile. "Come on!"

Jane left the office with Greg when Sally took advantage and stood next to him. "Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. It's really amazing."

"Thank you."

"Unbelievable."

Sherlock left the office not saying a word. Not even glancing at her.

"Let's go home, Sherlock. I'm tired," said Jane once they were outside and waiting for a cab. She took Sherlock's hand and they entwined their fingers. "You okay?"

"Thinking."

When a cab pulled closer, Sherlock opened the door and got in. "This is my cab. You get the next one."

"Why?" asked Jane, confused and alarmed at the same time.

"You might talk."

Jane let some tears fall out her eyes as she rubbed her baby bump. Their baby was kicking so hard. And she knew something was wrong. But what Jane didn't know is that their lives were about to turn upside down.

They just had a couple of hours left.


	71. Burn to A Crisp

Sherlock sunk into the cab seat. He felt his heart aching after leaving Jane alone, but he really needed to be alone. He couldn't afford making a mistake this time because this time was nothing like before. This time James Moriarty was not going to stop it until he saw him burning. And Sherlock knew this; he knew Moriarty was not stopping unless he did, unless his own heart stopped.

He had to think! Sherlock had to think, because if everything was part of a scheme, there had to be a failure. James Moriarty was a criminal mastermind, he was himself. Both were the same, both were clever, both were geniuses. Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty could be the same person, but they were totally different at the same time. Sherlock knew he had a life, he had a family, a wife, a three-year-old toddler and a baby coming within less than three months. He might be on the side of the angels, but he wasn't one. James Moriarty had no life. He had no one close to him, or at least no one Sherlock knew about. Moriarty was neither on the side of the angels, nor he was one.

Yet the were the same.

Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted when the screen in front of him turned on showing a jewellery advert.

"Can you turn this off, please?"

But it was still on.

"Can you turn this off?" insisted Sherlock, now angrily, when the jewellery advert disappear and James Moriarty was on the screen.

_"Hello. Are you ready for the story? This is the story of Sir Boast-A-Lot..."_

* * *

"A footprint is all he has. A footprint," said Sally as she showed Greg a couple of pictures from the boarding school were the ambassador's children had been taken from.

Greg grinned. "Well, you're new but it's like CSI Baker Street," he joked.

"Our boys couldn't have done it. Not like that."

"That's why we need him. _He's_ better," said Greg, proudly. He was proud of Sherlock, of his son-in-law.

Sally Donovan bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief. She had been told about Jane Watson and Sherlock Holmes' situation when she had been transferred to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade's criminal division of the Scotland Yard. Anderson was right; The Freak from school married Jane Watson and got himself a family. Sally was also told about Greg being a sort of father to her.

But even if Sherlock was like a son to Greg too, Sally had to stop this because she had an idea planted on her mind.

Sherlock Holmes was not the man everyone thought he was.

"That's one explanation."

Greg frowned. "And what's the other?"

* * *

_"Sir Boast-A-Lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the Round Table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slain..."_

James Moriarty was sitting on a sort of set with a book on his hands and wearing a neat shirt. Behind him were pictures of a blue sky and a sun. It was just like the shows Hamish liked to watch.

 _"And soon they began to wonder..."_ said Jim, with a deep frown between his dark eyebrows and the sunny pictures behind him disappeared and turned into dark clouds and stormy skies. _"Are Sir Boast-A-Lot's stories even true?"_ asked Jim looking to the camera and then he shook his head. _"Oh, no."_

* * *

"That's not -"

Sally pointed at the pictures. "The girl screams her head off when she sees him, a man she has never seen before. Unless she _had_ seen him before."

"What's your point?"

"You know what my point is. You just don't want to think about it."

Greg looked at her with serious eyes and lowered his gaze to the floor. Greg thought about Jane, about Hamish and about Sherlock. Sherlock couldn't have done it. He was a good man.

Sherlock Holmes was a good man.

* * *

Sherlock bit his lip hard, almost tasting his own blood.

Jim turned one page of the book and looked at the camera again. _"So one of the knights went to King Arthur and said 'I don't believe Sir Boast-a-lot's stories. He's just a big old liar who makes things up to make himself look good'..."_

* * *

Greg Lestrade was sitting on his desk and in front of him were Sally Donovan, the newest of his team and Anderson, who worked on Forensics and shared, somehow, Sally's thoughts.

"You're not seriously suggesting he's involved, are you?"

"I think we have to entertain the possibility," said Anderson.

Sally nodded and focused on Greg, who bit his lip and looked at the framed picture on his desk.

It was a picture of Jane and Hamish he had taken when Hamish was just a little year old boy.

* * *

 _"And then even the King began to wonder... But that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-A-Lot problem. No,"_ said Jim, with a finger pressed to his mouth. _"That wasn't the final problem..."_

Sherlock felt his own despair and rage grown within himself when Jim smiled at the camera.

_"The End!"_

"Stop the cab! Stop the cab!" screamed Sherlock when the cab pulled up near the pavement and he stormed out to face the cabbie. "What was that? What was that?"

The cabbie turned his face. It was Jim Moriarty.

"No charge."

When Sherlock tried to get him, Jim accelerated and left. Sherlock was standing in the middle of the road, still high in adrenaline and not really paying attention to the car coming in front of him.

"Look out!" A man, a well built man wearing a dark jacket grabbed him and both felt to the floor, but at least they were safe.

Sherlock looked at him confusedly and then extended his hand to the man. "Thank you."

The man took his hand after one or two second of hesitation when, from out of the blue, the man was shot. Sherlock stepped back in shock when another cab pulled up a few feet from him and Jane ran to him. "Sherlock! What happened? Are you okay?"

"I don't know what happened," replied Sherlock, shaking a bit.

Jane knew he was in shock. She immediately called an ambulance and both waited for it to come.

"That's him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster. Lives two doors down from us."

"He died because I shook his hand."

"What d'you mean?"

Sherlock turned to leave. "He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?"

Jane followed Sherlock back to Baker Street where they found Hamish sleeping on their bed and Mrs Hudson on their sitting room reading a book.

"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive," said Sherlock as he started working on his computer.

"Thank God you're here. I need to take my herbal shooters."

Jane smiled at her landlady and thanked her for keeping an eye on Hamish. Silence fell on the room when once alone, Jane stood by the window rubbing her baby bump softly.

"I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me -"

"The others kill them before they can get it," completed Jane.

"All the attention is focussed on me. There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now."

"So what have you got that's so important?"

Sherlock looked at her and then his gaze lowered to the table his computer was on. "We need to ask about the dusting."

Jane had to go and ask Mrs Hudson if she could please go upstairs because Sherlock needed her. Mrs Hudson was sleeping but she went upstairs with Jane when Sherlock asked her about the last time she cleaned the flat.

"Well, Tuesday I did your lino -"

"No, in here, this room. This is where we'll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust. Dust is _eloquent_."

Mrs Hudson turned to Jane when Sherlock started to look frenetically between their framed pictures, some books and even on the skull on the mantelpiece.

"What's he on about?"

Jane just shook her head when Sherlock found a little device between his books at the top shelf of their bookcase. "Cameras. We're being watched."

From the three of them, Mrs Hudson was the most alarmed. "Cameras, here? I'm in my nightie!"

Their landlady hurried out the room with Jane following close behind when the doorbell rang and Sherlock heard some familiar steps.

"Dad -"

"No," said Sherlock, cutting Jane off and not turning back to face Lestrade. "No, Inspector."

It was the first time in years Sherlock was referring to and calling Greg 'Inspector'.

"What?"

"The answer's no."

Greg looked at Jane and then at Sherlock. "But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."

"Sherlock -"

"The scream?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah."

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home," said Sherlock and pressed an index finger to Greg's forehead. "There."

"Will you come?"

Sherlock turned and went back to work on his computer. "One photograph - that's his next move. Moriarty's game, first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch. It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play. Give my regards to Donovan."

Lestrade just left without saying a word, not even when Jane looked at him confusedly and yet angrily.

Jane only stood close to the window and looked at Greg and Sally Donovan getting into the car and leaving. She felt their baby kicking hard inside her and without saying a word, which most of the times helped, she only rubbed her baby bump softy using her fingertips.

Sherlock was still focused on the camera and the computer when he looked at Jane briefly and returned to his work. "They'll be deciding."

"Deciding?"

"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me," explained Sherlock.

"You think?"

He nodded. "Standard procedure."

"Should have gone with him. People will think -"

"I don't care what people think."

"You'd care if they thought you were stupid, or wrong."

"No, that would just make them stupid or wrong."

Jane felt she just had enough. Her baby kicking inside her was not helping at all and the situation was making her feel completely nervous and weak. She wanted to sink into the ground, if it was even possible, and cry.

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're -"

Jane stopped and turned to the windows.

"That I am what?"

She looked at him into his eyes. "A _fraud_ ," whispered Jane.

"You're worried they're right."

"What?"

"You're worried they're right about me."

"No."

Sherlock looked at hr again. "That's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well."

"No I'm not."

"Moriarty is playing with your mind too," Sherlock leaned forward and slammed his hand onto the table, making Jane turn fearfully. "Can't you see what's going on?"

After a seconds of silence, Jane shook her head and sat on the sofa. She pressed both hands to her baby bump. "No, I know you for real."

"A hundred percent?"

"Of course," said Jane, nodding and turning to face him. "I'm your wife and I love you. I know who you are and no one will convince me of the opposite."

Sherlock left his computer and sat next to her. Silently, he kissed her lips and placed an arm on her thin shoulders and his other hand was on her belly. "Everything is going to be all right. I promise."

"I know. You'll solve this, won't you?"

"Tomorrow we'll forget all about this. And we'll only think in our baby," said Sherlock as he kissed her again and let her rest her head on his shoulder.

Jane yawned tiredly and closed her eyes.

Sherlock watched her falling asleep and wished all the things he had told Jane could ever be true.

* * *

"Sherlock Holmes?" asked the Chief Superintendent.

"Yes, sir."

The old man nodded. "That bloke that's been in the press," Greg nodded. "I thought he was some sort of private eye."

"Yes. He is."

"We've been consulting with him, that's what you're... you're telling me?" suggested the Chief Superintendant and Greg nodded. "Not used him on any proper cases, though, have we?"

Greg felt breathless. "Well, one or two -"

Anderson, who was behind Greg looked at the Chief Superintendant and shook his head. "Or twenty or thirty. Or that's what I heard."

"What?"

"Look, I'm not the only senior officer who did this. Dimmock -"

"Shut up!" said the Chief Superintendent cutting Greg off. "An amateur detective given access to all sorts of classified information, and now he's a suspect in a case!"

"With all due respect, sir -"

"You're a bloody idiot, Lestrade! Now go and fetch him in right now!" When Greg hesitated, the Chief Superintendent got to his feet and pointed at the door. "Do it."

As soon as they were outside the office, Greg looked at Sally Donovan and Anderson angrily. "Are you proud of yourselves?"

"Well, what if it's not just this case? What if he's done this to us every single time?"

Greg waited for a moment until both Anderson and Donovan got their coats to take his phone and call Jane.

* * *

Sherlock left Jane sleeping on the sofa. He covered her body with a soft duvet and kissed her forehead before going to his room to see Hamish. The young detective opened the door of the room softly and found his son sleeping on the middle of the bed. He walked a few steps until he was standing just next to the bed when Hamish opened his blue eyes and saw him.

"Daddy..."

Sherlock heard Jane's phone, but he ignored it. He took Hamish in his arms and the little boy glued his arms around his neck as he buried his little face into his shoulder. "There are things I wish I could tell you. Things I wish I could explain." Sherlock pressed a kiss to the boy's curls. "I would give my own life to go back in time and change the things I've to your mother and to you. You don't deserve this," said Sherlock, looking at Hamish's hearing aid. "I can't change it. I can't make it better. I am so sorry, Hamish."

Hamish looked at Sherlock and kissed the tears falling down his daddy's eyes. "You sad?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Sherlock cuddled Hamish as if he were a little baby and wiped the tears off his face. "I wish I could stop this."

"I love you daddy."

Sherlock smiled. "I love you too, Hamish."

The young detective kissed Hamish's cheek and closed his eyes, inhaling his son's scent and then he caressed Hamish's fair curls. Immediately, Sherlock remembered the first time he had seen Hamish in that lab a little bit more than a year ago. Sherlock loved that child. Sherlock had loved Hamish since he was nothing but a very little thing inside Jane's uterus. Sherlock felt Hamish as his since Jane found out she was pregnant and he was nothing but her friend then.

Now that he was married to Jane, now they were raising Hamish together and waiting for another baby that was to come soon, Sherlock realised how little he could enjoy his family and how much time he had given to drugs. Sherlock knew if he hadn't been a drug addict, he would have got a different family. Hamish would have been healthier, Jane wouldn't have to be alone and he would have had more time with them. Sherlock knew many things would have been different if it wasn't because of the drugs.

Sherlock covered Hamish' body when a duvet and went back to the living room where Jane was already awake. "Dad's just called. Says they're all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people."

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?" said Mrs Hudson carrying a brown envelope in her hands. Sherlock ignored her and picked up his blue scarf. "Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked 'Perishable' - I had to sign for it. Funny name. German, like the fairytales."

Sherlock turned to see it. Jane opened it and found a gingerbread man. It was burned.

"Burnt to a crisp."

Jane frowned. "What does it mean?"

The door bell rang and Mrs Hudson went to answer the door as Jane looked outside. There were several police cars and officers outside. It was different from what she had imagined it. They were looking for Sherlock as if they were looking for some murder!

"Police!"

There was a lot of noise downstairs as Sherlock put on his long coat and Jane went downstairs to try and convince Greg Sherlock had nothing to do with the kidnapping of those children. Sherlock was about to turn to the door when Hamish appeared in the room carrying his favourite teddy bear, the same one Sherlock had bought for him when he wasn't even born and when Sherlock hurt Jane for the first time.

"Where you goin' daddy?"

Sherlock raised Hamish and hugged him tightly. Sherlock pressed soft kisses to Hamish's cheek. "Hamish, promise me you'll be a good boy and that you'll protect your mother. Can you do that for me?"

"Have you got a warrant? Have you?" Sherlock could hear Jane downstairs trying to stop Greg and she was also arguing with Sally Donovan and some other police officers.

"Leave it, Jane."

Hamish had some tears in his eyes as he looked at his father confusedly. "Daddy don't go..."

Jane, Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan and five police officers appeared in the room when Sherlock kissed Hamish for the last time. "I love you, Hamish. Don't ever forget that. And take care of your mother."

"Sherlock, what are -"

Sherlock turned to Jane. "Call Mycroft and ask him to take you out of the country. You and Hamish have to go."

"What are you talking about? Sherlock -"

Hamish was now in Jane's arms, helplessly crying when a police officer handcuffed Sherlock as some others pointed at him with their guns.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping," said Greg.

Jane pulled at Greg's arm. "He's not resisting -"

"It's all right, Jane. Everything's going to be all right," said Sherlock.

"No, it's _not_ all right. This is ridiculous!"

Greg tried to ignore Jane's comments. "Get him downstairs now."

"DADDY! I WANT DADDY!" cried Hamish.

Jane felt mad. She felt like killing every police officer near her for doing this; for taking Sherlock like that, as if he were a murderer and treating him like a criminal. She felt her baby bump as hard as a rock and her baby kicking inside her hard and Hamish crying and asking for his daddy.

"Dad please!"

"Don't try to interfere, or I shall arrest you too," said Greg, pointing at her with a finger and looking into her crying blue eyes.

Everyone left but Sally Donovan.

"You done?" said Jane as Mrs Hudson took Hamish off her arms and tried to make him stop crying.

"Oh, I said it. First time we met, remember? I told you to stay away from him. I warned you he was a sick -"

Jane looked at her angrily. "Shut up!"

"I told you he was mad, that he was a _'freak'_. One day he'll cross the line. Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?"

"Donovan," said the Chief Superintendent, stepping into the room and looking at the messy place.

"Sir."

"Got our man?"

"Er, yes, sir."

"Looked a bit of a _weirdo_ , if you ask me. Often are, these vigilante types," said the man and then turned to see Jane looking at him with murderous eyes. "What are _you_ looking at?"

Jane punched the Chief Superintendent hard enough to break his nose and even make it bleed. She was taken downstairs by a police officer who was not being gentle at all, not even when her pregnancy was very notorious.

He slammed Jane up against the car, but not that hard, a bit softly.

"Careful! I'm pregnant!" hissed Jane, annoyed.

Next to her was Sherlock "Joining me?"

"Yeah. Apparently it's against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent."

Two police officers were unlocking the cuff of Sherlock's left wrist to handcuff Jane's right wrist. Sherlock looked at them and then turned to Jane. "Where's Hamish?"

"Mrs Hudson said she'll look after him. No one to bail us."

"I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape."

"What?"

With quick movements, Sherlock took the radio which communicated most of the police officers and pressed down on the talk button. This made all of them hiss in pain after the high sound in their ears. It was the perfect distraction for Sherlock to take a gun from one of the officers behind them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" said he, pointing at them with a gun. " _NOW_ would be good!"

"Do as he says!" instructed Lestrade.

Several police officers, the Chief Superintendent and even Lestrade and Sally Donovan went down to their knees.

Jane looked at the scene before her eyes and felt her heart beating faster. "Just-just so you're aware, the gun is his idea. I'm just a... you know -"

"My hostage!" said Sherlock, now aiming the gun to Jane's head.

"Hostage! Yes, that works - that works," whispered Jane to Sherlock. "So what now?"

Sherlock took her hand and both entwined their fingers. "Want to do some exercise?"

"Exercise? Sherlock, what are we doing?"

"Doing what Moriarty wants - I'm becoming a fugitive. Run!"

Holding hands and with their fingers entwined, Sherlock and Jane Holmes ran into the darkness.

And into their final.


	72. Fugitives

"Take my hand."

Sherlock took Jane's hand and they ran together. Jane felt her baby bump heavy and she thought she wouldn't be able to run, but her legs were strong and hearing the police behind them made her gather all the strength she thought didn't have. Even though she was pregnant, she was able to run and keep up with Sherlock's long legs.

The young detective dropped the gun and they turned to their left. The ran for a few more minutes along some alleyways which was perfect to confuse the police. As it was late in the night, everything was dark and most of the alleyways were desert, Sherlock leaded the way and soon they were far from the police.

"Sherlock, wait!" gasped Jane, lying against a wall and panting. She felt breathless and weak.

"We have to -"

Jane grabbed Sherlock by the collar of his shirt and pressed their foreheads together. "We're going to need to coordinate."

"Take deep breaths," said Sherlock pressing both hands to her baby bump. He felt their baby moving inside her. It was probably uncomfortable after Jane had run for minutes.

"Huh?"

Sherlock led her to the corner of a dark alley where he made Jane sit on the floor. "Take deep breaths."

Both were silent. The only thing Sherlock could hear were the police sirens and Jane's panting, trying to take deep breaths as she had some rest. They were still close, but yet Sherlock knew they wouldn't be found.

"Everybody wants to believe it - that's what makes it so clever. A lie that's preferable to the truth. All my brilliant deductions were just a sham. No one feels inadequate - Sherlock Holmes is just an _ordinary_ man."

Jane got to her feet and rubbed her right wrist which was handcuffed to Sherlock's left hand. "What about Mycroft? He could help us."

"A big family reconciliation? Now's not really the moment."

"Sherlock..." whispered Jane, trying to catch Sherlock's attention and then pointed at the opposite corner. "We're being followed. I knew we couldn't outrun the police."

"That's not the police. It's one of our new neighbours from Baker Street. Let's see if he can give us some answers."

They walked a few steps forward until they reached the end of the alleyway. Sherlock looked carefully to both sides and around the corner; the police was not close - yet. But there was a bus coming close. And it was what he needed.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to jump in front of that bus," said Sherlock, still holding her hand and entwining their fingers tightly.

Jane gasped. "What?"

Sherlock started running to the street, dragging Jane with him when she spotted the bus coming. She felt her heart pounding within her chest and her baby kicking hard. The pain was almost unbearable and she felt her legs weak when Sherlock stopped in front of the bus.

They were going to die.

But behind them a man pushed both to the floor. Jane felt Sherlock taking her arms and everything was spinning. There as a cracking sound as she opened her eyes and realised Sherlock had fallen on the floor on his back and she was over him. Her baby bump was pressed against Sherlock's stomach and she was safe. Both Jane and the baby were safe.

"Are you okay?" asked Jane, standing up and looking at Sherlock's eyes.

He ignored her question and turned to the man who had pushed them off the street. "Tell me what you want from me. _Tell_ me!"

The man looked at him for long seconds before replying, as if he was processing the meaning of the words. "He left it at your flat," replied he, in a very clumsy English.

"Who?"

"Moriarty."

Sherlock frowned. "What?"

"The computer keycode."

"Of course. He's selling it - the programme he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around -"

Sherlock and Jane were still processing what the man was trying to say when from out of the blue someone shot at him three times. Jane gasped in horror and Sherlock took her hand and they ran back to the alleyway to protect themselves and their baby from any bullet. Sherlock knew they were being followed and there were chances of them getting hurt.

"It's a game changer. It's a key - it can break into any system and it's sitting in our flat right now. That's why he left that message telling everyone where to come - _'Get Sherlock'._ We need to get back into the flat and search."

"The police will be all camped out. Why plant it on you?"

"It's another subtle way of smearing my name. Now I'm best pals with all those criminals."

Jane rested her back against a wall and pressed a hand to her baby bump, feeling her baby was still kicking inside her when she spotted a pile of recent newspapers inside a bin. "Have you seen this? A kiss and tell. Some bloke called Rich Brook. Mycroft asked me about him. Who is he? Do you know him?"

Sherlock looked at the cover. It was an article written by Kitty Riley, that same woman who talked to him on the toilets.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes," said Sherlock, picking the lock of the handcuffs and helping Jane with hers. "The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo."

The red haired woman smiled at him. "I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so -"

"And then someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?" but Kitty shook her head. "Oh, come on, Kitty. No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. There are all those furtive little meetings in cafés, those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. What were his credentials?"

Kitty opened her mouth to reply when a man carrying two shopping bags opened the door of her flat. "Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee so I just got normal -"

Sherlock and Jane turned and saw him. It was James Moriarty. There was no doubt, it was him. Jim dropped the shopping bags and stepped backwards until he was standing against a wall. _"_ You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here!"

"You _are_ safe, Richard. I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses."

Jane turned to Kitty angrily. "So that's your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?"

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There's no Moriarty," said Kitty and then glanced at Sherlock. "There _never_ has been."

 _"_ What are you talking about?"

"Look him up. Rich Brook - an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty."

So far Sherlock didn't say a word. He only stared at Jim. Opposite him, he knew Jane was mad. He could see, without even looking at her, that Jane was angry.

"Miss Jane... I know you're a good woman -" mumbled Jim, with his hands up and shaking. "Don't... don't... Don't hurt me."

Jane pointed at him furiously. "No, you are Moriarty! He's Moriarty!," screamed Jane and then turned to Jim. "We've met, remember? I was losing my baby and you were going to blow me up!"

 _"_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry," begged Jim and pointed at Sherlock. "He paid me. I needed the work. I'm an actor. I was out of work. I'm sorry, okay?"

Jane closed her eyes and pressed both hands to her belly. "That's - Sherlock, you'd better explain... because I am not getting this."

"Oh, I'll be doing the explaining, in print," said Kitty, handing Jane a folder with pictures, articles and even a list of 'Richard Brook's works as an actor. "It's all here – conclusive proof. He invented James Moriarty, his nemesis."

"Invented him?"

Kitty nodded at Jane. "Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain -"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!"

"Ask him!" Kitty pointed at Jim. "He's right here! Just ask him. Tell her, Richard."

Jane was so angry she had tears in her eyes. "For God's sake, this man was on trial!"

"Yes," said Kitty and pointed at Sherlock. "And you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you'd rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but I'll bet the money was good. But not so good he didn't want to sell his story."

Jim, or 'Richard Brook', glued his hands together and looked at Jane with crying eyes. "I am sorry. I am. I _am_ sorry."

"So-so this is the story that you're gonna publish? The big conclusion of it all: Moriarty's an actor? I don't believe you."

 _"_ I have proof. I have proof. Show her, Kitty! Show her something!"

Kitty gave Jane a folder with more pictures of this man, 'Richard Brook'. There were several pictures of him, some of them with children, some others on TV sets for children's shows. Jane frowned and suddenly she remembered those kids TV shows Hamish liked to watch.

Sherlock was still silent. He was focused on Jim when he spotted him smiling. This was all a big lie. They were trying to get to Jane's mind.

"I'm on TV. I'm on kids' TV. I'm 'The Storyteller'"

Jane took a picture off the folder and held it on the air so Sherlock could see it. "This is one of... this is one of the... this is one of Hamish's favourite shows."

"I'm... I'm 'The Storyteller'. It's on DVD..." said Jim and looked at Sherlock. "Just tell her. It's all coming out now. It's all over. Just tell her. Just tell her. _Tell her!_ "

Sherlock wasn't able to take it anymore. He felt like killing James Moriarty with his bare hands. He tried to jump over him when Jim stepped backwards. _"_ NO! Don't you touch me! Don't you lay a finger on me!"

Jane looked at the pictures and then at 'Richard Brook's pleading and terrified eyes. She felt confused. Everything was confusing.

"Stop it. Stop it NOW!" hissed Sherlock and ran after him.

Kitty gasped. "Leave him alone!"

It was too late. When Sherlock finally got upstairs Moriarty had already made his way outside the house. "No, no, no. He'll have back-up -"

Kitty stepped in front of him and looked at him. "D'you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can _read_ you. And you... repel... _me."_

Sherlock ignored her, so did Jane and both ran outside, but Moriarty was nowhere to be seen. _"_ What was that, Sherlock?"

"He's got my whole life story. That's what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable."

"Sherlock, I don't understand -"

"He's been sowing doubt into people's minds for the last twenty-four hours. There's only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that's to..." Sherlock stopped when realisation hit him.

James Moriarty's game had a scheme; making people believe Sherlock Holmes was a fake, a real Criminal Mastermind and not a Consulting Detective, a hero.

Jane looked at him and took his hands. "Sherlock?"

"There's something I need to do."

"Can I help?" said she, kissing his cheek, close to his lips.

Sherlock only rubbed her baby bump and turned. "No. I'm on my own."


	73. You Do Count

Sherlock looked at the clean counter. The test tubes, all the petri dishes, the fragile burettes; everything was so clean and pristine. Molly Hooper, still a student, a part time worker at Bart's Labs was a very careful, devoted person to her work. Since Sherlock had come back and found out she was working there, he hadn't realised, until that moment, how devoted Molly Hooper was. Every lab, no matter how big or how small it was, every lab was always clean, perfectly equipped.

It reminded Sherlock of those old school days in which Molly would sit next to him on lunch breaks, before Jane appeared in his life. Molly was the only one who talked to him. And Sherlock had always ignored her, but for some unknown reason Molly Hooper continued talking to him. Molly, that shy, clumsy girl who used to have a crush on him always believed in him and ignored her then friends and classmates comments and no matter what they told her, she always talked to him.

"You're wrong, you know," Molly gasped scared and turned to see Sherlock was in her lab. "You were the only girl who ever talked to me... And I ignored you."

Molly bit her lower lip. "I wasn't the only one. Jane was there too."

"Before Jane you were my only friend."

"No, I wasn't. I was a silly girl in love with you."

Sherlock turned to face her. He had traces of tears on his cheeks. He looked pale, fragile. Sherlock looked vulnerable. "You _do_ count. You've _always_ counted and I've always trusted you. But were right. I'm not okay."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Molly, I think I'm going to die."

Molly only looked into his eyes. "What do you need?"

Sherlock walked towards her. "If I wasn't everything that you think I am - everything that _I_ think I am - would you still want to help me?"

Molly remembered Sherlock many years before, when he smoked and ignored her while she chatted about how excited going to the prom party was and when Jane came along. Molly liked Jane, she was sweet, honest. Jane Watson was a good girl and without even trying, she won Sherlock's friendship, companionship and love. Molly tried, she tried very hard, but Sherlock would never see her like he saw Jane.

And Molly knew Sherlock loved Jane since the first moment. It was all written on his face; the way he looked at her, the way Sherlock cared.

"What do you need?" repeated Molly.

"Jane and my children... they are in danger," whispered Sherlock.

 _'Jane and my children'._ Molly loved Sherlock as a friend, he knew he had a wife and that wife was Jane and that he had a family. If Sherlock needed her to save them, to keep them alive, to do whatever he needed to do, Molly was going to be there. Because she said it; Sherlock could always have her for whatever he needed.

So Molly didn't hesitate.

There were little tears in Molly's eyes. "What do you need?"

"You."

* * *

Jane was sitting in one of the armchairs inside Mycroft's office. It had not been hard to get into her brother-in-law's most secure and important place. Once you become a Holmes, almost nothing is impossible. She took a quick look at the place and let out a deep, tired sigh. An important desk and a chair, some bottles of the most expensive scotch you could possible imagine and two glasses, important, significant paintings, a posh pen on the desk, a red telephone and stupid, sensationalist newspapers and articles on a small table.

 _'SHERLOCK: THE SHOCKING TRUTH'_ , was the title of the article. It was printed on the first page. The newspapers assured the readers the written article was meant to be out on the streets soon. Kitty Riley, the journalist behind the words, had Sherlock's whole life story. She promised, on a few lines, an article full of invented crimes an a non-existent nemesis named 'Jim Moriarty' who was no one but an actor hired to be a criminal mastermind. The source was no one else but 'Richard Brook', a man said and believed to be an actor, someone Sherlock had hired to be Moriarty because he was bored and because he wanted to impress people.

Jane focused on the few words printed in bold by Kitty Riley: _'Sherlock Holmes: a mentally ill man coming from one of the wealthiest families in the country where a past of drugs made him the man he his: a fraud.'_

While reading and rereading the articles Kitty had given her and the newspapers on Mycroft's desk, Jane tried, she really tried to fight those tears she had in her eyes as she felt her baby kicking. Placing a hand on her belly, Jane tried to make the baby stop, but it wouldn't. Their baby kicked very hard inside her, and Jane believed he was as sad as she was. Jane felt something big was coming, she knew, she had that strange feeling within her chest. They were in danger, she knew they were, but she knew nothing at the same time. She needed to know how and why Kitty Riley had Sherlock's whole life story.

When Mycroft got into his office and met Jane's crying eyes he knew what was coming soon.

Too soon to be true.

 _"_ She has really done her homework, Miss Riley - things that only someone _close_ to Sherlock could know."

Mycroft looked a bit surprised, despite the fact he wasn't completely surprised at all. It was a few minutes past midnight when he found Jane on his office. And he already knew what had happened at Baker Street, why Jane had red marks on her right wrist and why had tears in her eyes. "Ah..."

"Have you seen your brother's address book lately? Two names, yours and mine, not even your parent's and Moriarty didn't get this stuff from me," said Jane, sternly.

"Jane -"

"So how does it work, then, your relationship? D'you go out for a coffee now and then, eh, you and Jim?" asked Jane, sarcastically while her brother-in-law sat opposite her. "Your _own_ brother, and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac."

"I never intend... I never dreamt -"

"So _this_... this... this..." mumbled Jane, looking down at the papers on her lap. "Is what you were trying to tell me, isn't it? 'Watch his back, because I've made a mistake'. How did you meet him?"

Mycroft looked into her crying eyes and felt his own heart ache within his chest. "People like him... we know about them; we watch them. But James Moriarty - the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon: a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock _any_ door."

"And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?"

"Interrogated him for weeks," admitted Mycroft.

"And?"

 _"_ He wouldn't play along," said Mycroft, now looking down, not being able to meet Jane's eyes. "He just sat there, staring into the darkness. The only thing that made him open up - _I_ could get him to talk just a little, but -"

Jane cut Mycroft off. "In return you had to offer him Sherlock's life story. So one big lie - Sherlock's a fraud - but people _will_ swallow it because the rest of it's true," Jane leaned forward and looked at Mycroft's green eyes. "Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, right? And _you_ have given him the perfect ammunition."

"Jane -"

"How could you, Mycroft? Your own brother..."

"There are lives of British citizens on the stakes -"

She smiled bitterly. "That doesn't give you the right to wrap my husband and give him to Moriarty as an early present for Christmas."

"Your life, as well as your still born child and Hamish's are on the stakes as well."

"Don't you think I already know that?"

Mycroft looked how Jane pressed both hands to her baby bump and shut her eyes tight, letting the tears fell down her blue eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Oh please," said Jane, sarcastically and got to her feet, with a lot of difficulty, feeling her belly as hard as a rock and her baby still kicking inside her.

"Tell him, would you?"

Jane slammed the door behind her back when she got a text from Sherlock.

_**I'm at Bart's lab.** _

_**Please come. SH** _

* * *

Molly listened carefully. She already had all the elements she needed in her mind. Still, Molly was not convinced it would work. It was risky, it implied telling everyone a lie she knew, would destroy many people.

Even Sherlock.

"Jane will -"

Sherlock cut Molly off. "It's the only way."

"You can't do this, Sherlock. There has to be another way -"

"There isn't," Molly nodded. "Just texted her. She's coming."

Molly took the things she needed and walked towards the door. "I believe you, Sherlock."

"Thank you."

"I know who you are. I believe you," repeated Molly.

For some reason, she had the need of repeating herself again. She knew Sherlock hated people repeating themselves. But for some unknown, strange reason Molly Hooper had to let it out her heart.

She believed in Sherlock Holmes.

"Wait for me."

"I will."

Sherlock, once alone in the lab, took a black ball from inside his pocket and sat on the floor, resting his back against one of the counters of the lab. He started playing with it and remembering the day Hamish gave it to him. The young detective still had Hamish's old paintings and drawnings he used to do for him when he was 'Sherwock' and not 'Daddy'. Sherlock missed Hamish so much, and thinking of the way he left, being handcuffed and pointed at with guns in front of Hamish made Sherlock feel sad.

He didn't want his child to remember him like that.

_**Need me to bring anything? JH** _

But he had a couple of hours left.

_**I need you. Please come. SH** _


	74. Our Last Dance

"Got your message," said Jane as she opened the door of the lab and found Sherlock alone in the lab, sitting on the floor and playing with that bouncing ball Hamish had given him for Christmas. _  
_

"The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it - beat Moriarty at his own game."

"What d'you mean, 'use it'?" asked Jane.

"He used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook."

Jane smiled. "And bring back Jim Moriarty again."

Sherlock stood up and got close to Jane. "Somewhere in 221B, somewhere - on the day of the verdict - he left it hidden."

"What did he touch?"

"An apple. nothing else."

Jane frowned. "Did he write anything down?"

"No."

Sherlock remembered Jim tipping with his fingers on his knees.

That was it.

The young detective continued rolling the ball over the lab counter when he took his phone and sent a message.

_**Come and play.** _   
_**Bart's Hospital rooftop.** _   
_**SH** _   
_**PS. Got something** _   
_**of yours you might** _   
_**want back.** _

"Come here," said Sherlock, putting his phone back to his pocket and wrapping Jane with his coat. "You're freezing."

Sherlock sat on the floor and rested his back against the counter. He spread his legs and Jane took the clue and sat before him. She glued her back to Sherlock's strong chest. The young detective wrapped his arms around her and kissed the skin behind her ear and her cheek. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Now pressing his long hands on her belly, Sherlock felt their baby moving and kicking inside Jane. He chuckled. "Hush, baby. Mummy needs to sleep."

A few minutes after rubbing her belly, their baby stopped kicking. Jane sighed relieved and smiled. She turned a bit so she could kiss his lips. "I don't want to sleep."

"You're tired. Have you eaten?"

She nodded. "At the Yard, after we found those children."

Sherlock lifted Jane's jumper and then her shirt and traced imaginary patterns with his fingertips on her bare baby bump. This made Jane giggle. Sherlock smiled and continued caressing her belly. "How was Hamish?"

"He barely cried unless he was hungry or when he needed a change," said Jane, remembering those days when she was alone with Hamish. "He was beautiful. He still is."

"Which was his first word?"

"'Mummy'"

"I wish I had been there when he was born."

"You'll be here when this baby comes," said she, placing a hand over Sherlock's, which was on her baby bump. "I bet his first word will be 'daddy'. And you'll see him walking his first steps too."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile and nod. Jane looked so full of hopes. She had a wide smile on her face as he caressed her belly, as they felt their baby moving inside her and Sherlock couldn't help but say 'yes' at everything Jane said. And it hurt Sherlock because he knew he was lying. Sherlock knew he was not going to be able to be with Jane anymore. He would not be able to see their baby born, saying his first word or walking his first steps. But Sherlock couldn't tell her.

"I missed your latest ultrasound."

"I didn't go. I've rescheduled it for next week. The doctor will tells us the possible date. It'll be a normal delivery," she said. "You still want to be with me, during the birth?"

Sherlock nodded and, taking advantage Jane was not looking, he wiped some tears off his face. "Of course."

"Some people faint, though."

"Stupid people faint," said Sherlock and kissed neck. "I'll be there with you."

"You promise?"

Sherlock kept on caressing her belly and tried to change the subject. "We haven't discussed names."

"I don't want to think about names. I think we'll know once he's in our arms."

"OK."

Jane giggled, but soon her expression changed. She looked serious. "Sherlock... what d'you like about me?"

Still caressing her belly, still thinking how different their lives were going to be, still counting the minutes, the hours they had, Sherlock pressed soft kisses to her neck and wrapped his arms around her tightly, trying to make her feel warm and safe.

Sherlock wanted Jane to be safe. And not only her, but also their children; Hamish and the new baby coming soon.

He closed her eyes and felt Jane soft breathing. Their baby was calm now, he wasn't kicking anymore. There was nothing but silence between them.

"Why are you asking?"

"Just wondering."

Sherlock took a deep breath and kissed her ear. "I _love_ everything about you. You're very clever and a wonderful mother to Hamish. I know you'll be as good as to this baby. You're brave - you punched the Chief Superintendent," Jane giggled. "You never give up. You're everything I want right now," said Sherlock and he silently cried.

Jane didn't turn. She only smiled at cupped Sherlock's cheek with one hand. "Well, I didn't expect that -"

"And you have a thing for tea. And jam and jumpers," added Sherlock. "You can't live without a hot cup of tea and toast and jam."

"Hey, my jumpers are nice!"

Sherlock chuckled. "They are only nice when you wear them."

"Now's my turn! I love... I love it when you wake up and your hair is all messy."

"Well, I can't change that, can I?"

"And when you snore."

"I don't snore! _You_ snore!"

Jane giggled. "You _do_ snore! I'll record you one of these days."

"What else?"

"Well... I like it when you sulk -"

"I do not do such thing! Only children sulk," said Sherlock, trying to defend himself.

But Jane just giggled even more. "You sulk more than Hamish usually does. And for the record, he got it from you."

"Obviously."

Both were silent for minutes until Jane leaned backwards and Sherlock pressed soft kisses to the top of her head. "You're so clever and you always have an answer when Hamish asks the most complicated things - like the time when he asked where babies come from?"

"He's a curious child."

"You're a good father to him, I don't know what I would have done without you. I like the way you are with him. I love everything about you. Actually, I love you even when you can't get the milk," joked Jane.

Sherlock chuckled. "That was once."

Jane blushed. "And when we make love; you know how to make a woman feel special."

"I wish I could make love to you right now," whispered Sherlock to her ear.

"Me too."

"I'll fix this, Jane. I promise I'll fix this and you, Hamish and the baby will be safe."

She nodded. "I know."

Sherlock kissed her neck, pressing soft kisses to her pale skin and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Jane. I love you more than anything else in this world."

Jane turned to meet his lips. Sherlock didn't want to do what he knew he was about to do. Sherlock wanted to take Jane and Hamish and ran away to some strange place, far away from Moriarty and from any other person who wanted to hurt them. But they couldn't.

It was their last night together and Sherlock didn't want it to end.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

Sherlock cupped her face and looked into her eyes. "Do you believe me?"

"Of course," then Jane frowned. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Sherlock took her hand and helped her to get to up. Then, he turned the lights of the room off and took his phone out of his pocket. 'Us Against the World' the same song they dance together, in each other's arms in their prom party many years ago. Now it was playing on Sherlock's phone and Jane smiled.

"My favourite song."

**_Oh morning come bursting, the clouds, Amen._ **

**_Lift off this blindfold, let me see again_ **

**_And bring back the water, let your ships roll in._ **

**_In my heart she left a hole_ **

**_The tightrope that I'm walking just sways and ties_ **

**_The devil as he's talking with those angel's eyes_ **

**_And I just want to be there when the lightning strikes_ **

**_And the saints go marching in_ **

Sherlock placed her hands on his neck and then his own hands on her waist and both just stood there, in the middle of the lab together, in each other's arms, dancing. Jane followed Sherlock's feet and soon she rested her head on his chest. Her baby bump was the only thing that kept them from being completely glued to each other.

"We didn't dance when we got married. I know you wanted to."

**_And if we could float away_ **

**_Fly up to the surface and just start again_ **

**_And lift off before trouble_ **

**_Just erodes us in the rain_ **

**_Just erodes us in the rain_ **

**_Just erodes us and see roses in the rain_ **

"I wanted to kiss you."

Jane looked into his eyes. "Hmm?"

"At the prom party," explained Sherlock. "I wanted to kiss you."

Jane pressed soft kisses to Sherlock's neck. "Really?

"Yes," whispered Sherlock.

"Kiss me, Sherlock."

Sherlock leaned down to kiss Jane. Their kissed as if their life depended on it while the song continued.

**_Through chaos as it swirls_ **

**_It's just us against the world_ **

**_Through chaos as it swirls_ **

**_It's us against the world._ **

Once the song finished, Sherlock sat again on the floor with Jane next to him. She was already very sleepy. He could see her eyes closing as she let out a long sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. With an arm around her shoulders and a hand on her baby bump, Sherlock only watched her sleeping.

And wished he could stop what was to come.

* * *

Sherlock spent the whole night awake, looking at Jane peacefully sleeping next to him and rubbing, caressing her baby bump... saying good bye to their baby. The baby didn't move much, and Sherlock believed it was because he was close and because Jane was already sleeping. Somehow their baby felt when he was close and when he was the one touching him through Jane's skin. The young detective wished the best for Jane and the baby.

They didn't deserve this. Jane and the baby deserved much more, and all the happiness of the world.

But it was something Sherlock couldn't grant them if he stayed with them.

Jane's phone went off. The noise made her woke up and Jane smiled at Sherlock and rubbed her eyes while picking up the call.

"What?... " Jane looked alarmed and soon there were tears in her face. "What happened, is she okay?" Sherlock looked at Jane's worried face and continued staring at the wall opposite him. "Oh God, yes. And Hamish? She was taking care of a little boy - oh God, yes, I'm coming," said Jane and finished the call.

Sherlock got to his feet and sat on a chair. "What is it?"

"Paramedics. Mrs Hudson... Oh god, Sherlock. She's been shot."

"What? How?"

Jane shook her had and took her jacket. "Maybe it's one of those killers you managed to attract... Jesus. Sherlock, let's go."

Sherlock didn't move from the chair. "You go. I'm busy."

"Busy?" asked Jane, angrily.

"Thinking. I need to think."

Jane couldn't believe it. "You need to think? Doesn't she mean _anything_ to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her!"

"She's my landlady."

"She's dying, you machine -" Jane pressed a hand to her belly and hissed in pain. "God."

Sherlock knew something was wrong. "Are you okay?"

"Sod this... I'm going to see her and I'll take Hamish to your parents'. You stay here if you want, on your own."

Sherlock looked how difficult it was for Jane to walk. She pressed a hand on her lower abdomen and shut her eyes tightly. She was in pain. And Sherlock knew she was experiencing Braxton Hicks.

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me."

Jane turned before opening the door. "No. Friends and family protect people."

Sherlock ran to the door and took Jane's hand. "Jane, please, stay."

"What?" Jane moved her face away. "Mrs Hudson is dying and you want me to stay?"

Sherlock pressed both hands to her belly. "Jane please, I need you to stay. I need you to stay a bit longer, p _lease_."

"You said that alone is what you had."

Jane opened the door and left.

Sherlock's phone went off.

**_I'm waiting..._ **   
**_JM_ **

* * *

When Sherlock got to the rooftop, he saw James Moriarty sitting on the edge holding his phone and 'Stayin' Alive' was playing.

"Ah. Here we are at last - you and me, Sherlock, and our problem, the final problem," said Jim, sitting on the edge o the rooftop and turning to face Sherlock. "'Stayin' Alive'. It's so boring, isn't it?"

Sherlock looked into his eyes. "Why boring?"

"It's just _... staying."_


	75. The Final Game

**_I'm waiting..._ **

**_JM_ **

When Sherlock got to the rooftop, he saw James Moriarty sitting on the edge holding his phone and 'Stayin' Alive' was playing.

"Ah. Here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock, and our problem - the final problem," said Jim, sitting on the edge o the rooftop and turning to face Sherlock. "'Stayin' alive'. It's so boring, isn't it?"

Sherlock looked into his eyes. "Why boring?"

"It's just _... staying_ ," said Jim as he started walking towards Sherlock. "All my life I've been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction - even when you were just a kid playin' detectives with that girl... and now I don't even have you. Because I've _beaten_ you. And you know what? In the end it was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary just like all of them. Oh well."

Sherlock didn't say anything, he only watched Jim walking around him, like a beast preparing himself to devour a small creature in front of him. But Sherlock was not the small creature. And Jim Moriarty was not the beast.

All the opposite in fact.

"Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?"

Sherlock looked at him. "Richard Brook."

"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do."

"Of course."

"Attaboy."

"Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach - the case that made my name," explained Sherlock. But to Jim it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'Richard Brook', a name most of the country knew by now, was what Moriarty used as a joke. It mean Reichen Bach, or _Reichenbach_ , the case that made Sherlock's name, the case that turned Sherlock Holmes into someone famous after finding a missing painting.

And into a hero.

"Just trying to have some fun. And it was funny, wasn't it?" said Jim as he glanced at Sherlock's fingers behind his back. "Good. You got that too."

"Beats like digits. Every beat is a one, every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head - a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."

Moriarty nodded, pleased. "I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy."

"Yes, but now that it's up here," said Sherlock pointing at his head. "I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty."

Jim looked at Sherlock for brief seconds and then turned to face away. He looked disappointed, almost hurt. "No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy. This is too _easy_... There is no key, DOOFUS!" screamed Jim into Sherlock's face. "Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless."

Sherlock looked at him confused.

"You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in you, _ordinary_ Sherlock."

"But the rhythm -"

"'Partita number one', thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach."

"But then how did -"

Moriarty cut Sherlock off. "Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison? Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants. I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness - you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building - nice way to do it."

"Do it? Do... do what?" mumbled Sherlock confusedly and then turned to face Jim. "Yes, of course. My _suicide_."

" _'Genius detective proved to be a fraud'_. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales," whispered Jim as he watched Sherlock walking to the edge of the rooftop and looking at the ground below. "And pretty Grimm ones too."

* * *

On the other side of the city, Jane was practically running from the cab she had taken from Bart's to Baker Street. She paid the cabbie and immediately started looking for her keys when she realised the front door was open. Inside was the same man she had seen the day before fixing Mrs Hudson's wall. Sitting close to him was Hamish, curiously going through the man tools box and Mrs Hudson watching the man's work closely.

"Oh, God, Jane! You made me jump!"

Jane looked at her confused. Her landlady, the woman who was like a mother to her was safe and healthy. She didn't look as if she had been shot at all!

"But..."

"Is everything okay now with the police? Has, um, Sherlock sorted it all out?"

Hamish smiled at his mother. "Mummy, where's daddy?"

"Oh, Jane, I almost forgot it! Are you and Sherlock doing anything special for your wedding anniversary?"

Jane only stared at them when she realised what was really happening. _"_ Oh God."

She ran back to the streets where she found a cab stopped at the other side of the road. "Taxi! I'm pregnant!" screamed she at the man who had stopped the cab and then she got inside. "Take me to Bart's Hospital NOW!"

"Are you in labour or -"

"If you don't take me there I'll certainly have this baby here!"

* * *

"I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity."

Jim looked at him exasperatedly. "Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. Oh, but you don't want to leave your family, don't you?" said he and then added. "Poor wifey... alone with a bastard and your baby - I can look after them if you let me... _Pleeeeease?_ "

Sherlock grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and made him turn so Jim's back was just close to the edge of the rooftop. Sherlock felt like punching his face, but he knew hurting Moriarty would worth nothing. Punching Moriarty would mean nothing and it would definitely not going to help at all. "You're insane."

"You're just getting that now? Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive," whispered Jim and Sherlock frowned at him. "They will _die_ if you don't."

"Jane."

"Not just Jane. Everyone."

Sherlock froze. "Hamish."

Jim smiled. " _Everyone_."

"The baby..."

Sherlock felt his heart had stopped beating when he mentioned the members of his family one by one and one by one, Jim smiled and confirmed what he had feared for. Jane, Hamish and their baby were in danger. Though Sherlock knew this was to happen, there were some miscalculations. The three gunmen weren't on his plan.

The three gunmen changed everything now.

Jim smiled. "Three bullets, three gunmen, three victims. There's no stopping them now. I'm warning you, one of them is trained. He will pull the trigger and you won't see food going out her stomach... but the brains of your child. They will die unless my people see _you_ jump."

Sherlock looked at the ground below and released Jim. He was lost. Jane, Hamish and their baby, they were all going to die.

"You can have me arrested, you can torture me, you can do anything you like with me but nothing is gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your family will die unless..."

"Unless I kill myself - complete your story."

Moriarty nodded. "You've gotta admit that's _sexier_."

"And I die in disgrace."

"Of course. That's the _point_ of this. You'll be a shame to them. You'd better kill yourself then. Easy-peasy," whispered Jim to Sherlock's ear as he joined him on the edge of the rooftop and glanced down. "Oh, you've got an audience now. Off you pop. I told you how this ends. Your _death_ is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it. You can say you relapsed - if you don't want to admit I've beaten you."

"Would you give me one moment, please. One moment of privacy? Please?"

Jim smiled disappointedly. "Of course."

Sherlock focused on the people below when he smiled confidently and laughed.

Jim turned angrily. "What? What is it? What did I miss?"

"You're not going to do it. So the killers can be called off, then - there's a recall code or a word or a number," said Sherlock as he started walking around Jim. "I don't have to die... if I've got _you_ ," he almost sang.

"Oh! You think you can _make_ me stop the order? You think _you_ can make me do that?"

The young detective nodded. "Yes. So do you."

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."

"Yes, but I'm _not_ my brother, remember? I am you, prepared to do anything; prepared to burn, prepared to do what ordinary people won't do," said Sherlock, standing right in front of Jim and looking into his dark eyes. "You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you."

There was a moment of hesitation in which both enemies, Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty looked into their eyes. For a moment, the sun behind Sherlock's figure blinded Jim. And the Consulting Criminal felt the _fear_ running down his veins.

"Nah. You talk big. Nah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary - you're on the side of the angels."

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but _don't_ think for one second that I am one of them."

Neither of them said a word.

And Jim knew he had underestimated his enemy. Sherlock Holmes was certainly not an ordinary man.

Sherlock Holmes had beaten Jim Moriarty.

"No, you're not... I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me," mumbled Jim and laughed. "You're me! Thank you! Sherlock Holmes," Jim offered his hand to be shaken and Sherlock did so. Sherlock and Jim shook hands when the Criminal Mastermind added. "Thank you. Bless you. As long as I'm alive, you can save them... your wifey and your little brats; you've got a way out..." Sherlock nodded.

The young detective thought he had it all. Sherlock thought he had Jim Moriarty within his hands and that the game was over.

But the game was far from being over.

"Well, good luck with that."

Jim opened his mouth and pulled a pistol from inside his jacket and with a quick movement, Moriarty got the gun inside his mouth and pulled at the trigger. Sherlock stepped backwards and watched it all. He watched Jim shooting himself and then falling to the floor. There was blood, lots of blood flowing out his head.

Jim Moriarty killed himself and died with his eyes widely open, staring at Sherlock Holmes, his enemy. The last thing he had seen before dying was Sherlock, his nemesis, his enemy.

And now that Jim was dead, Sherlock had no choice.

Sherlock gasped in horror and turned around and leaned forward on the edge of the rooftop, where he saw a cab pulling close to the street and Jane paying the cabbie. He took his phone and dialled her number.

On the street, Jane picked up the phone without even looking at the screen to know who it was.

"Hello?"

"Jane."

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?"

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now."

Jane shook her head. "No, I'm coming in -"

"Just do as I ask! Please!"

"Where?" asked Jane, looking around.

"Stop there."

"Love? Tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked down at the ground below. "Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."

Jane turned and watched Sherlock standing just on the edge of the rooftop. She was confused, she didn't know what was happening and what was to happen next, but for some unknown reason her baby was kicking inside her and she already had some tears in her eyes.

"Oh God," she gasped.

On their wedding night, Jane promised Sherlock she would never leave him. Sherlock admitted she was like a drug, that he couldn't conceive of a life without her. Jane gave Sherlock her heart.

And Sherlock promised nothing would tear them apart.

But he was so wrong.


	76. Tell Me that You'll Open your Eyes

Jim Moriarty killed himself and died with his eyes widely open, staring at Sherlock Holmes, his enemy. The last thing he had seen before dying was Sherlock, his nemesis, his enemy.

And now that Jim was dead, Sherlock had no choice.

Sherlock gasped in horror and turned around and leaned forward on the edge of the rooftop, where he saw a cab pulling close to the street and Jane paying the cabbie. He took his phone and dialled her number.

On the street, Jane picked up the phone without even looking at the screen to know who it was.

"Hello?"

"Jane."

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?"

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now."

Jane shook her head. "No, I'm coming in -"

"Just do as I ask! Please!"

"Where?" asked Jane, looking around.

"Stop there."

"Love? Tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked down at the ground below. "Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."

Jane turned and watched Sherlock standing just on the edge of the rooftop. She was confused, she didn't know what was happening and what was to happen next, but for some unknown reason her baby was kicking inside her and she already had some tears in her eyes.

"Oh God."

On their wedding night, Jane promised Sherlock she would never leave him. Sherlock admitted she was like a drug, that he couldn't conceive of a life without her. Jane gave Sherlock her heart.

And Sherlock promised nothing would tear them apart.

But he was so wrong.

"I-I-I can't come down, so we'll... we'll just have to do it like this," mumbled Sherlock.

Jane felt her belly as hard as a rock and her heart pounding hard within her chest. "What's going on?"

"An apology. It's all true."

"What are you talking about?"

Sherlock swallowed hard. "Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Why are you saying this?"

"I'm a _fake_."

_All this feels strange and untrue._

"Sherlock -"

"The newspapers were right all along," admitted Sherlock with tears in his eyes. "I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly... in fact, tell my parents... just - tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

Jane shook her head and started crying. Sherlock could hear her sobbing through the phone and couldn't help but cry as well. He saw Jane pressing a hand to her belly and trying to breath. "Shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met - the first time we met, you knew all about my limp, remember? And about my sister and my mum."

Sherlock nodded. He remembered seeing Jane falling to the floor because of her limp, visiting her house, and deducing all about her sister and her mother. "I did. I invented him."

"No! I know you didn't -"

"I did!" screamed Sherlock. "I wanted to impress you."

Jane shook her head. "No. You're lying. Moriarty tried to kill me, remember? You didn't invent him. I know you didn't. You couldn't -"

And Sherlock also remembered, even being high that cold night, Jane pregnant, losing Hamish, carrying a jacket with enough explosives to kill them both. "I didn't want Hamish. I was angry because he wasn't mine... that's why I hired him that night. I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry_."

Jane pressed a hand to her belly feeling their baby kicking hard inside her. She was holding the phone, her fingers curled around it and tightly pressed against her ear. She shook her head refusing to believe what Sherlock was saying, what he was trying to convince her about. Sherlock could have never hired Moriarty to do that. Jane knew it was a lie. Sherlock was lying - he was.

But yet Jane couldn't understand why he was saying that.

"Jane... Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

Sherlock finally let out his tears, which rolled down his cheeks. "I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you because I liked you. I wanted you so badly that I researched you just to get to you. It's a trick. Just a magic trick."

"No," said Jane, starting to walk towards Bart's entrance. "Stop lying! Stop it now!"

As soon as Sherlock watched Jane trying to get into the building he leaned forward on the edge of the rooftop. "No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."

"Sherlock... why are you lying? Why are you saying this? Please love, please -"

"I killed Richard Brook."

"What?"

Sherlock wiped some tears off his face. "He told everyone about me, so I had to kill him."

"Love -"

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"

_I want so much to open your eyes. Because_ _I need you to look into mine._

"Do what?"

"This phone call - it's... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they - leave a note?"

Jane shook her head confusedly, still sobbing when she felt a severe pain on her lower abdomen. Braxton Hicks again and this time they were quite painful. Jane shut her eyes tightly, but still she kept trying to look up to where Sherlock was. "Leave a - God. Oh God, the baby's coming Sherlock."

Sherlock bit his lip. He hated himself. He knew Jane was in danger - he knew she would die if he didn't. Sherlock knew Jane and their baby and Hamish were in danger. But he wanted to get down, be with her, see their baby coming to this world - Their baby shouldn't come now. It was too early. Sherlock hated himself because of his fault, Hamish had come too early to this world. And this baby was coming now too - and it was too early. Everything because of his bloody fault.

He couldn't see Jane, but he knew she was crying. Sherlock knew she was crying and that she was suffering and that she was in pain. Jane was seven months pregnant, and she was fragile. Sherlock knew this was hurting her deeply.

But he had no choice.

"Please Sherlock... I need you now, please."

"I'm sorry Jane. I'm going to jump."

She managed to stay still even when the pain was getting worse and worse after each second. Sherlock was still standing at the top of Bart's, dangerously leaning forward on the edge of the rooftop and Jane couldn't take it anymore. Everything was confusing, she didn't know what had happened and why Sherlock wanted to kill himself.

And she felt their baby coming.

It was too early.

"Don't... don't leave us, Sherlock! Please, get down, love. Get down," begged Jane.

But Sherlock shook his head. "I'm a _fake_."

_Get up, get out. Get away from these liars._

"Sher..."

"I'm a shame to you and Hamish."

Jane hissed in pain. "I don't care what people think! Stop lying, because I know who you are! I love you, Sherlock. I've always loved you, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Think in our children, Sherlock - they need you. _I_ need you... please, love. Please don't do this!" begged Jane, with tears in her eyes.

Sherlock nodded. He knew how much Jane loved him and he knew that even after saying those lies - that he invented Moriarty to impress her and to hurt her too - Sherlock knew Jane still believed him. And he was aware of how much Hamish, the baby coming soon and Jane needed him. Sherlock wanted to see Hamish growing up, he wanted to see the new baby born and he wanted to grow old with Jane.

Despite how much Sherlock wanted all of that, he knew he was not going to be there for them. But Sherlock knew this was for their own good. Because they had to live. Sherlock would have never forgiven himself if something happened to them.

Before something happened to them, Sherlock preferred to die.

"Tell Hamish I love him. Tell him I've always loved him. _Always_."

Jane started panicking. "Sherlock, today's is our second anniversary remember?" asked Jane in a futile attempt to make Sherlock change his mind. "We got married today two months ago... you said you'd always be by my side, remember? You promised, Sherlock... you promised," whispered Jane. "You can't do this - you can't do this to me!"

Sherlock sobbed and Jane heard him through the phone. "I'm sorry."

"I've got a scheduled ultrasound next week! The doctor will tell us if it's a boy or a girl -" said Jane, trying to make Sherlock change his mind.

"I'm sorry," repeated Sherlock. "Don't tell the baby about me. Don't tell him about -"

"No," said Jane, cutting Sherlock off. "I won't tell him anything about you because you'll be here, won't you? You promised you'd be here with me - with us!"

Sherlock cried and shook his head. "I won't. I'm sorry."

"Think about Hamish... Please -" Jane hissed in pain and shut her eyes closed. "Sherlock... the baby's coming - God, it's coming now. I need you, love. Our baby's coming! Please, get down and come with me... come with us, _please_ , Sherlock!"

"I'm sorry for all the things I did to you and Hamish. I'm sorry for hitting you. But I can't live knowing I once hurt you. I just can't."

Jane shook her head. "No! That's part of the past -"

"No, it's not!" screamed Sherlock. "Every time I look at Hamish, I know it is my fault... Every time I look at your body, I know it was me who left those scars... I _want_ to die."

"No! No Sherlock, love -"

"Goodbye, Jane," said Sherlock and threw the phone onto the roof.

_Please, open your eyes._

Jane tried to wipe the tears off her face when she felt a severe pain down her abdomen. That pain reminded her of when Hamish was coming to the world, when she was at that cold pool and there was a red dot on her head. "No, baby, no... It's too early. Don't..." Above, on the rooftop, Sherlock was spreading his arms and leaning forward.

"No... SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock jumped off Bart's rooftop.

On the ground, Jane stared at him in horror. Her blue, crying eyes followed Sherlock's body from the rooftop until it collided against the ground. Jane saw Sherlock falling, hitting his body against the ground and dying.

It took her a couple of seconds until she realised what was happening. Until Jane realised Sherlock had jumped off Bart's rooftop and killed himself.

Gathering the little strength she had, she tried to get to Sherlock, but she felt dizzy. Everything was spinning as she felt a severe pain on her belly. She knew her baby was in danger, so was she, but Jane didn't care. Jane didn't care, she only wanted to get to Sherlock.

A young man riding a bicycle collided against her. She fell to the floor on her right side, and she hit her head against the asphalt and her baby bump too. Still feeling dizzy and with a severe pain on her lower abdomen, Jane managed to get up and walked as fast as she could until she got close to Sherlock. Many people was around the young detective's body. Jane spotted a few doctors and nurses, and some paramedics running with a stretcher.

"Sherlock... love," whispered Jane until she reached the crowd around Sherlock's body. "I'm a med student, let me go through. Let me go through, please."

Some people tried to push her back, but even after falling to the floor and feeling like losing her baby, Jane fought them back and reached down and took Sherlock's left wrist. His hand had blood, and focusing on his golden ring, the ring they had exchanged when they got married, Jane realised Sherlock had no pulse. Jane tried to take his hand, she tried to caress his warm hand with her fingertips, but she was pushed back.

"No, he's my husband. He's my husband. Please. Please, let me just..."

Sherlock was dead.

Jane fell to the floor and two old women tried to help her. However, Jane's blue eyes were still focused on Sherlock's dead body when the paramedics turned his body. His entire face was blood stained... and his gray eyes were wide open.

"Jesus, no... NO!"

The paramedics placed Sherlock's dead body on the stretcher and hurriedly made their way into the hospital. Jane stared at Sherlock's left hand hanging off the stretcher, his golden ring she knew had her name engraved inside and the blood left on the ground.

Sherlock's blood.

Still on the floor, Jane pressed a hand to her baby bump, trying to feel their baby kicking inside her. Suddenly, as if everything had been planned by God, or whoever was above them, the blue sky changed; there were dark clouds on the sky when Jane looked up and felt small drops of water falling over her, hitting her crying face. Pressing her hands to her belly, she realised her baby was no longer kicking. Jane felt nothing. Suddenly she felt empty. The people continued walking, passing by. The doctors, nurses and paramedics had taken Sherlock's body inside and now Jane was alone, standing next to a big pool of blood on the asphalt.

She was alone.

Away from her, two trained snipers packed their guns and left their strategic locations. The other one at Baker Street got a text calling him off.

Sherlock Holmes had committed suicide.


	77. Rain, Angels and Tears

_"People say you don't know what you've got until its gone. The truth is, you knew exactly what you had; you just thought you'd never lose it."_

People say you don't know what you've got until its gone. However, no one told Jane, because, to be honest, she needn't to be told this. The truth is, Jane had always known what she had; she just thought she'd never lose _him_.

When Jane decided to spend the rest of her life with Sherlock she never thought, dreamt or conceived of or imagined he would commit suicide just in front of her for still unknown reasons to her. Sherlock had always said how much he loved her, how much he loved Hamish and the baby which was still inside her - who was to be born just in weeks. Their lives had not always been perfect; there were times in which they argued, and maybe if they were pointless arguments, they, at least, had moments in which they disagreed on things such as what was the best for Hamish, if they should have the living room painted or why Sherlock forgot, again, to get the milk. However, putting those moments aside, they had a happy life together. They loved each other, they had been sincere with each other, there had never been secrets between them. They were planning a life together, a long life with Hamish, the new baby and maybe one or two more ahead.

If they were happy - if Sherlock was happy - then why he had to kill himself? Why he had to leave her alone?

_'Wasn't my love enough?'_

That was exactly what Jane thought the day she watched the moon disappear from the sky, but then the sun never appeared. It is an universal truth, something many people know - almost everyone - and no one dares to deny or change; when the moon is gone, the sun always shines. But since Sherlock died, the sun had never shone again. Since that morning when Jane saw the body of her husband, Sherlock Holmes, lying on a pool of blood on the street - and lifeless - the rain has never stopped. And even after two days, the sky was still crowded with dark, gray - as his eyes - sad clouds. The sun never shone again. The rain seemed to be endless, as her own tears.

Jane was sitting close to the window in Sherlock's old room at his parent's house. Her blue, tired eyes were focused on the green grass below and on the dark sky. It was five in the morning, and she still couldn't sleep at all. Every moment or so she looked at Hamish, who was peacefully sleeping on the big bed, which had once been Sherlock's bed and which had been the very same bed where they loved each other for the first time. Hamish was curled in the middle of the mattress and pressing his favourite teddy bear tightly to his chest - the very same teddy bear Sherlock got for him before Hamish was born.

As her tears seemed to be endless, as her pain, Jane didn't bother to wipe them off her face. She was wearing Sherlock's blue gown, and it hurt because it smelled like him; like his favourite cologne, like cigarettes (he smoked when Jane was not around), like soap and like the tea she used to prepare for him. Sherlock's gown also smelled like Hamish, because Sherlock liked to wake up Hamish for breakfast and cuddle the small child and hold him into his arms as if he were a little baby. Sherlock always said he did that because he couldn't do it when Hamish was a baby. Sherlock's gown also smelled like her. He used to wrap himself with it after they had made love.

Somehow, that blue gown had collected all the smells that reminded Jane the life with Sherlock; the life they had before he died - before he had killed himself.

The rain hadn't stopped since Jane saw Sherlock dying. But also, the baby she was carrying, the baby she had inside her, that was the product of her love with Sherlock, the man of her life, the one she had always believed she would spend the rest of her life with never kicked again. Their baby never kicked again after Sherlock died. Jane only felt it moving inside her, but that was all. She knew it was alive, their baby was still alive, but it never kicked again.

It was a sad truth. However, Jane knew their baby always kicked when its father was around - and now Sherlock was gone. Jane expected it would stop kicking.

And it did.

Jane turned the lamp on and looked at the contents inside a shoe box she had found inside Sherlock's old dressing room. It was a middle sized blue box and it had been hidden behind old shirts and baggy sweat pants. The first thing she saw was a picture of them at her old house, taken by her mother before they left to the prom party. She was wearing a lovely dress and Sherlock was wearing a dark suit. He looked so handsome - he _was_ very handsome. Jane had some memories about that night, which started very awkwardly when her mother mentioned, and even asked if she was dating Sherlock. But it ended on Sherlock being threatened by an evil cabbie and Jane using, for the first time in her life, her father's gun to save her then friend's life. Jane blue eyes focused on the picture; on Sherlock's hand on her shoulder, on her smiling face and on Sherlock's serious expression. Sherlock's fingers on her shoulder were curled on her dress, and Jane remembered his touch was warm. She also remembered their first dance together, her head on his shoulder and then their faces just inches apart.

_"I wanted to kiss you."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"At the prom party," explained Sherlock. "I wanted to kiss you."_

When they danced together again, years later, they were not attending a party but they were fugitives. They were hiding from the police and they were alone at one of the many labs at Bart's. They weren't wearing fancy clothes; Jane was wearing Sherlock's warm coat because she was cold. At the prom party, Jane only hugged him tightly because Sherlock was her friend. But years later, after dancing together, Jane kissed him because Sherlock was her husband and the father of her children.

God, it hurt.

But that box did not only had a picture; it had some old notes they used to exchange during class many years ago. The slips of paper were yellowish now. Jane recognised her neat handwriting and Sherlock's messiest one.

_'Mum's leaving with Lestrade for the weekend. Want to come and stay?'_

Jane curled her lips slightly when she read Sherlock's written answer.

_'Won't your neighbours tell your mother you let a boy stay over for two whole days?'_

Jane also found inside the box a fair lock secured with a blue ribbon. It was a short lock, and Jane recognised it as her own hair. She immediately remembered cutting her own hair, just the tips once when Sherlock happened to be at her place. Heavy tears fell down her cheeks when Jane realised Sherlock had kept that lock of her hair - when they were just friends.

There were some of the scans she had got done when she was pregnant, expecting Hamish. All of them had Sherlock's handwriting and they had an inscription at the bottom. Sherlock wrote the date those scans have been made, her changing weight, what the doctors had said about Hamish... everything was there. Every single one of the scans had something written about her and Hamish.

The first scan was the one that made her cry. Hamish was no bigger than a thumb. Jane remembered herself lying on a stretcher and Sherlock was holding her hand. She remembered him squeezing her hand reassuringly as they met Hamish for the first time. She cried because she was going to be a mum, and she still couldn't believe it then. Jane had that ultrasound done a few days before their first wedding. Sherlock cleaned her then flat stomach after the ultrasound and caressed her skin. Then, he wiped the tears off her face and kissed her forehead. Such a tender kiss, suck a tender touch and Jane thought Sherlock liked her as a friend. But Sherlock loved her.

She had been so blind.

Jane took the box and placed it over Sherlock's old desk. She took one last look to Hamish's sleeping form on the bed and left the room. She got downstairs to the living room where she stood close by the big, posh fireplace and then looked at the photographs on the mantelpiece. There were some photographs of Richard and Elizabeth when they were young, and photographs of Sherlock and Mycroft when they were just kids. Sherlock had been a lovely kid, thought Jane. He had wild, untamed dark curls falling over his forehead and the most deepest gray eyes Jane had ever seen. Jane smiled weakly at one of the photos; Sherlock was no more than ten years old and he was sitting on the grass. His bony knees were supporting a heavy book and he looked as if he had been deeply lost in it.

The three last photographs on the right side of the mantelpiece were recent though; one of them had been taken the day of their first wedding. Jane looked at it, at Sherlock's smiling face, at his hand taking hers and at their entwined fingers. Jane just sighed tiredly and turned to see the following frame. It was a photograph of Sherlock and Hamish. Sherlock had Hamish sitting on his lap. Hamish was smiling and Jane remembered that day. They were visiting Elizabeth and Richard and drinking tea outside. Sherlock was smiling too, not to the camera but to Hamish. Sherlock looked so _happy_. His usually pale and sharp cheeks looked rounder, blushed in that photo.

But the last picture on the mantelpiece made Jane's heart beat faster. It was a photograph of them together. She didn't know who had taken it, but it was beautiful. They were in the garden, Sherlock was sitting next to her and he had an arm around her shoulders. She was resting her head on his shoulder and she had her eyes closed. Sherlock was looking away, but he was pressing a kiss to her hair and a hand to her belly. Between them was Hamish, looking up at their parents.

Jane pressed the picture to her chest and sobbed. She pressed a hand to her belly, but her baby wouldn't kick. The baby only moved a bit, but since Sherlock had died, it stopped kicking.

_'Wasn't my love enough?'_

It hurt. It hurt knowing Sherlock would no longer be in her life, that he was not going to be with her, with their children - it hurt knowing Sherlock would never see Hamish growing up... or seeing their baby born. Because it was something Jane had never expected. She thought Sherlock would solve it, that he would fix it; Jane cried because they were supposed to be together, lying in bed together, maybe making love, maybe sleeping - but together and both alive.

_Alive._

Sherlock was supposed to be alive and not dead. He was supposed to be sleeping on their bed - on their big and comfy bed covered with a duvet - not lying dead inside a coffin made of wooden, fibreglass or steel waiting to be buried in just a few hours. No.

_No._

"You should go to bed and have some rest."

Jane closed her eyes and put the frame back to its original place onto the mantelpiece. She knew who was talking to her, who was hiding behind her on the shadows. And it was someone she had no desire to talk to.

"Since when you _care_ about me?"

The man who had kept his distance walked a few steps until he was standing next to Jane, just inches apart. He left his empty glass on the mantelpiece and looked at the picture in front of him. "He asked me to look after you."

"He didn't. He despised you," replied Jane, softly.

Mycroft turned to face her but Jane was not looking at him but at that picture of her and Sherlock together. "I'm not lying. And you know it."

"You're a politician. You lie all the time."

This made Mycroft curl his lips upwards just slightly. "I'm talking about my brother, not about taxes."

"And I'm talking about my husband - your brother. Not about _your_ meaning of 'brother'."

"Jane -"

Jane cut Mycroft off and turned to face him for the first time in the whole night. "Your own brother, Mycroft. He was your own brother and you literally... you literally gave him to a maniac as if-as if he were..."

She stopped when she felt her baby moving suddenly inside her. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. Mycroft took her hand and she held it tight. "Sit down," whispered Mycroft and helped her to sit on the sofa. He turned the lights on and sat next to her. He tried to take her hand again, but Jane rejected his touch. She sank into the sofa and pressed a hand to her belly.

"You know what he said? He said he invented him."

For some reason, Jane couldn't repeat Sherlock's name again.

Mycroft felt her intense gaze on him, but he didn't say a word. He looked at the carpet underneath their feet. "You don't believe that."

"I want you to explain me what happened because that maniac existed - I know he did. You gave him Sherlock's whole life story - Richard Brook? I don't believe that."

"There were lives at the stakes -"

Jane cut him off. "So-so that's why you... your _own_ brother. Your Queen and your best mate at 10 Downing Street were in danger so you gave _him_ to that maniac?"

"They were one; two different sides of the same coin. Two different men and yet one -"

"Don't you dare."

Mycroft looked into her bloodshot eyes. "One day you'll understand."

Jane leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. She sobbed loudly. Mycroft looked at her fragile figure wrapped with Sherlock's blue gown and pressed his thumbs to his eyelids before some tears escaped from his green eyes. He glanced at her wrists still red after the handcuffs she had shared with Sherlock when they ran from the police. Then, Mycroft looked at her golden ring. She was still wearing it and he was sure she was going to do so for a long time.

No one gets used to lose someone as close as Sherlock was to Jane. Mycroft couldn't understand love as his brother did, but he was sure what Jane and Sherlock had - what they shared, what they hearts shared was something nothing, nothing such as 'death' would be able to break. The love Jane had for Sherlock had no limits, no boundaries, no resentments. Even after Sherlock had hurt her in the most horrible way a man can hurt a woman, Jane continued loving him. The love they had made Sherlock recover from drugs. The love Sherlock had for Jane killed the addictive self he had inside him.

"How am I... I can't do this without him. I can't. I just... I need him," whispered Jane.

Mycroft nodded and took her hand. This had been, even after years knowing each other, the first time they were as close as they were that night. "You will not be alone."

Jane looked into Mycroft's crying eyes and went back to Sherlock's old room. It was dawning when Mycroft found himself at the living room. He looked outside; the sky was still gray, filled with dangerous clouds. But there were some blue patches fighting those clouds, trying to pull them away so the sun could shine.

* * *

Jane looked into the mirror. She was wearing a dark dress. It was long above her knees, with long sleeves and loose enough for her baby bump. She caressed her belly and let out a long sigh. Standing next to her was Hamish, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a matching soft jumper.

"Want daddy," whispered Hamish while sucking his thumb and pulling at Jane's dress, trying to get her attention.

Even though it had happened two days ago, Jane still couldn't tell Hamish about it and not because she didn't want to but because she didn't know how. Jane didn't want to tell Hamish Sherlock was dead. Jane didn't know how. The two things combined ended up on her avoiding Hamish's questions such as where his daddy was and when he would come back. During those two days, Jane avoided those questions successfully. For the first time, Jane had to allow the nannies Elizabeth had hired to look after Hamish because she couldn't face her son.

The first day, a few hours after she had seen _him_ jump, Jane was asked to recognise the body at the mortuary. Jane was at Bart's. She had to see a doctor because she had fainted just a few minutes after seeing Sherlock's lifeless body on the ground. Her baby was safe and she was okay. But she didn't want to see Sherlock's body. She refused to do it. Jane was standing in front of a stretcher. There was Sherlock's body fully covered with a white sheet and on a table next to him were his blood stained clothes perfectly folded with his shoes, his coat, his blue scarf and his mobile phone and his wedding ring. Molly had some tears in her eyes when she asked Jane if she wanted to see him or whether she wanted to take his things.

Jane only shook her head. She didn't want anything. She just turned and left.

The second day Jane spent the whole day lying on Sherlock's old bed crying. Even when Elizabeth, Richard, Mrs Hudson, Greg and Mycroft asked her to eat and sleep Jane refused to follow their advices. They were experienced people in their own fields and in their own lives, but none of them knew what was to see the man you love taking his life like that. None of them, no matter how hard they wanted to try, could possibly understand how sad she felt and the emptiness Sherlock left in her heart and in her life.

And how alone she felt without Sherlock.

Jane knelt in front of Hamish, as much as he belly allowed her to, but enough to be be at the same eye level as her child and ran a hand over Hamish's wild, fair curls and cried. "Hamish, daddy is not here."

"Where?"

"He died."

"Where's daddy?" asked Hamish, innocently, not dully understanding the meaning of the word.

No one tells you how to be a mother or a father. None child comes to this world with a handbook to answer your questions. People say you do not become a parent when you have a child. People say becoming a parent is a process that never ends. People say every day with your child is a new lesson to be learnt.

No one taught Jane how to tell Hamish what death was and why Sherlock, his daddy, was not coming back. No one told her how she should tell Hamish Sherlock was gone.

"Daddy is in Heaven now," said Jane and held Hamish's little hands with hers.

Hamish bent his head. Jane looked into his blue eyes and found curiosity into them. "Daddy... daddy back?" asked he, fearful of his mother's answer.

"No," Jane shook her head and cried. "Daddy died. That means he will never be back."

As soon as Jane said, explained Sherlock would never be back again with them, she saw some tears in her son's eyes.

It hurt.

"Want daddy!" sobbed Hamish and buried his face into Jane's chest.

Jane cried too and tried to cradle Hamish just as Sherlock always did when Hamish was upset. "I'm sorry, Hamish."

"Want daddy now!"

"Baby, listen to me," said Jane, holding Hamish in her tired arms and walking to the windows. The rain had stopped and there were some blue patches when she pointed at the sky. Some gray clouds were gone when Hamish followed her finger, but he continued crying. "Look at the sky. Can you look at the sky?"

"Yes," mumbled the child.

Jane nodded. "Every time you look up at the sky, daddy will be there. He's in Heaven, there between the clouds."

"Daddy there?"

"Yes," said Jane, softly as she pressed a kiss to her child's face. "Daddy is in Heaven because he's one of God's Angels now. He's your Angel and that means he will always be with you."

Hamish nodded.

And Jane knew this was true. She knew Sherlock could be anywhere... but she was certain he was in Heaven because that's where he belonged to because he was an Angel. He was an Angel because he once saved her and Hamish. Had it not been for Sherlock, Jane knew she would have been made to give Hamish up for adoption. Had it not been for Sherlock, she would have never had Hamish with her, and that baby which was no longer kicking inside her because daddy was no there anymore.

Had it not been for Sherlock, Jane would have believed she couldn't conceive life inside her again - and she was carrying what their love made, their baby.

"Is daddy... baby's Angel too?"

Jane nodded to her son. "No matter where you are, daddy is up there looking after you and the baby because that's what Angels do. They look after the people they loved the most; and that's you and this baby," explained Jane, pressing a hand to her belly.

Hamish pressed a kiss to his mummy's cheek and looked into her crying eyes. "An' you, mummy?"

"Yes, Hamish," Jane mumbled, letting her sad tears fall down her cheeks. "Daddy is my Angel too."


	78. Not Our Last Goodbye

The dark coffin was six feet under. Jane stared at it while the men placed it on the small land bought by Elizabeth and Richard. Jane was wearing dark sunglasses, and even though it was cloudy, she used them to cover her bloodshot, sad, tired eyes. But her tears were visible, anyone saw the tears falling down her eyes, falling from her cheeks. Close to her was Hamish who was silently crying and ignoring his grandparents trying to make him feel better, Mycroft, Greg and Mrs Hudson. They were the only ones who attended to Sherlock's funeral and Jane was grateful for that. She didn't want anyone there, or at least, no one who didn't belong to their family.

Sherlock was being buried fully dressed wearing the clothes he had worn the day he took his own life; the blue scarf, the shoes and even his characteristic long coat. Sherlock was being buried wearing his wedding ring too as Jane refused to take it. When asked, she said she wanted Sherlock to keep it because that way they would still be connected - they would still be together even _after death_.

Jane placed Hamish on a chair and walked a few steps until she was standing on the edge, close to Sherlock's coffin. She looked down at it and sobbed loudly. Even when she didn't mean to, she knew she couldn't stop her tears. Jane still couldn't believe Sherlock was inside that coffin, dead. She pressed a hand to the coffin and then she placed one white rose over it before the men at the cemetery started moving it down into the dug land and before they started covering it with land.

"I'll always love you, Sherlock. Good bye."

No one said a word. They only stared at the dark coffin moving downwards into the land and at the dark headstone with Sherlock's name engraved on it. Jane looked at them, how everyone fought their own tears... Everything was either gray or dark. Everyone's clothes were dark or gray. The sky was gray. The marble stone with _his_ name engraved on it was dark.

God, even Sherlock's coffin was dark.

* * *

Jane didn't visit her doctor. She missed her scheduled ultrasound and she didn't care. She knew fully well that her baby was fine; it moved a few times per day, but it didn't kick anymore. But that weren't news.

Sherlock was not around anymore.

She also missed uni. Most people knew who she was, about Sherlock and about what happened; her closest friends at uni knew Jane was destroyed, that she needed time, plus, her baby was to come soon. Elizabeth tried talking to her to convince her to go back to study because that was what Sherlock would want but Jane wouldn't understand. She didn't want to leave the house and she didn't want to go back to Baker Street.

Not yet.

At least Jane slept and ate because she knew, as the Med student and as the mother she was, that the baby inside her needed her to be healthy. Jane had already experienced what was to be ill and to, somehow, cause damage to her baby. That had already happened with Hamish - and while Sherlock's absence hurt her, she knew she had to live for her baby and for Hamish.

Jane knew she had to live for them, for her children. Jane never felt hungry or tired. But she ate and slept for her baby and Hamish.

Had it not been for her children, for Hamish and the baby still inside her, Jane would have killed herself just seconds after she had seen Sherlock jump.

But Jane wasn't the only one sad after Sherlock's death. Sherlock's parents suffered as well. Jane could tell when they had been crying. Suddenly, every picture of Sherlock around the house became very difficult to look at. Elizabeth Holmes, who had always been a very chatty woman, always so cheerful and friendly became a very quiet and reserved person. She stopped seeing her friends, taking care of her garden and hosting those lovely tea parties for which she liked to prepare pantries and bake cakes. The same happened to Richard who started working again and, if it hadn't been for Hamish, he would have stayed inside his office the whole day.

Hamish was the only thing left that reminded them of Sherlock - he showed a resemblance to the man who had always been his father; the way Hamish laughed, his own curiosity, his curls, his eyes, his cheeks. Even though Hamish was not Sherlock's biological child, he definitely looked like him. Hamish Watson Holmes was a little part of Sherlock left in this world.

On the afternoons, Hamish would ran to his grandfather's office and ask him to read him stories or sometimes Hamish would ask Richard the most difficult questions to be ever asked, such as what are the clouds made of or why the sky was blue. However, Richard really loved him and spoiled him as much as Elizabeth did. While Richard liked to read and explain things to Hamish, Elizabeth liked to cook her grandchild sweet things and, if she and Richard felt like, they would go to a toy store to get Hamish a few toys or books.

Jane allowed them, of course. She understood everyone needed to grieve, to overcome _his_ death. Jane knew Hamish was the way Richard and Elizabeth were still close to Sherlock.

But Hamish was suffering as well; he wouldn't drink his milk or tea, complaining his Daddy was the one with whom he had always drunk his milk. Hamish refused to drink his milk and sometimes to eat his food and he started losing weight. This worried Jane and everyone because Hamish was a very fragile boy - his heart was weak and he wasn't going to be able to afford getting ill. The first days he had nightmares and he woke up crying in the middle of the night. As he had his own room, Jane had to take him to hers - Sherlock and her old room - where he would sleep peacefully. But as the days passed, Hamish started to get used to Sherlock's absence. He was also used to the Holmes' big house and he liked to run along the corridors, on the gardens, play with the nannies and with his grandparents.

And even Mycroft got close to Hamish . more than he had ever been.

Mycroft hadn't been that heartless after all. Suddenly, Mycroft was the one who helped Hamish to drink his milk, who corrected his speech, who read them a story before going to bed and - Jane saw him once - cuddle him like Sherlock used to do. Still angry with him, Jane just allowed him. An unspoken permission Mycroft could be as close to Hamish as everyone else was. Somehow, Mycroft, with his parent's help, made Hamish smile and be a happy child again.

Mrs Hudson and Greg also helped. They visited Jane a few times and, in their attempts to make things better, Mrs Hudson organised a knitting marathon with Elizabeth. The two old ladies decided to knit as much as they were able to for Jane's baby and as they didn't know the gender yet, they decided everything they were going to knit was to be white while Greg tried to spoil Jane buying her cake slices, cookies, her favourite strawberry jam and special tea.

"How's he?"

Jane curled her lips upwards while looking at Hamish watching some cartoons on telly. "Fine. He's doing fine."

"And you?" asked Greg.

"Your girlfriend must be wondering where you are."

Greg held her hand. "Jane -"

"I'm tired!" screamed Jane. "I'm tired of everyone's asking me how I am. How do you think I am? I saw him _dying_. I'm sad. I'm tired. I'm angry - I would die just to be with him again."

Greg sat next to her on the sofa and gestured one of the maids to take Hamish to his room. Jane buried her face into the Detective Inspector's chest and cried for long minutes. Greg embraced her and closed her eyes and waited; he knew she had to let it go. Jane needed to cry. People say you need to cry to let the pain go away.

But it doesn't matter how much you cry because sometimes the pain never goes away.

"They need you."

"I know," whispered Jane, still pressing her head to Greg's chest. "I'm scared."

Greg frowned. "Why?"

"I don't know how I'll do this."

"Hush. Everyone's with you. Sherlock's parents, Mrs Hudson - even Mycroft. And don't forget you're my little girl," said Greg with a reassuringly smile. "You know you're a daughter to me."

Jane smiled. "Thanks, dad."

Greg smiled too. "Now, can I stay for dinner? Annie's curry is... shit!"

* * *

"Mummy... why daddy's dead?"

Jane froze. She had just finished reading Hamish a story and she was putting him into bed when he asked her that question.

"Daddy died because he was ill."

"You doctor," mumbled Hamish.

"Yes, I'm studying to be a doctor, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help him."

Hamish was still digesting his mother's words and only started at her for seconds before asking again. "Why?"

"Because daddy's heart was ill," lied Jane. "And God needed a detective in Heaven. Remember daddy helped people to find their... their missing pets and he also helped the police to catch the bad guys?" Hamish nodded. "Well, God took him to Heaven because he needed him and daddy became an Angel too."

The toddler nodded. "Is daddy here... now?"

"Yes. Angels are everywhere, remember?"

"Daddy has wins?"

Jane kissed Hamish's cheek and covered his little body with a duvet. "It's 'wings', and yes, daddy has two white, long, beautiful wings that help him to fly on the sky between the clouds."

"Can Daddy... -"

"No, Hamish. Daddy won't come back."

"I want daddy," whispered Hamish. "I love daddy Sherwock."

Jane faced away and wiped some tears off her face. "I want daddy too. But he can't come back." Hamish nodded. "But we can go and visit him tomorrow. D'you want to go and visit daddy?"

"Yes!"

"Tomorrow we'll go to the doctor to see more pictures of the baby," explained Jane, "And then we'll go and tell daddy all about it, okay?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Jane smiled and hugged Hamish tightly. Hamish gave her the the hopes Sherlock had taken away when he killed himself. And now the new baby was coming very soon.

She had a reason to fight for.

* * *

"There's all the stuff, all the science equipment. I left it all in boxes. I don't know what needs doing. I thought I'd take it to a school. Or maybe you'll want to keep it for Hamish," suggested Mrs Hudson.

Jane shook her head. "I can't go back to the flat again - not at the moment."

Jane, Mrs Hudson and Hamish were standing in front of Sherlock's grave. As soon as they stood there, Hamish ran to Sherlock's headstone and planted a kiss on it and placed a drawing he had made for his daddy. Jane looked at her child and smiled weakly. Hamish sat on the grass and started mumbling things to the grave; he was telling Sherlock all about his Grandpa Richard and his Nan Lizzie and about his other Grandpa Greg and Nan Hudson too.

"Will you stay with Elizabeth and Richard then?"

"I don't know... I'm angry, Mrs Hudson."

"It's okay, Jane," whispered Mrs Hudson. "There's nothing unusual in that. That's the way _he_ made everyone feel; all the marks on my table and the noise. Playing the violin at half past one in the morning!"

Jane nodded. "I know."

"Bloody specimens in my fridge. Imagine; keeping bodies where there's food and Hamish's milk!"

"Yes."

"And the fighting! Drove me up the wall with all his carryings on -"

Jane held Mrs Hudson's hand. "Listen, I'm not actually that angry, okay?"

"Okay," Mrs Hudson pressed a handkerchief to her nose. "I'll leave you alone to, uh... you know."

Jane looked Mrs Hudson leaving before the tears could go out her eyes. Jane felt the same; she needed to cry. This was the first time she was visiting Sherlock's grave after they had buried him. The dark marble headstone had some dust and the flowers that had been left were already dead. Jane took a tissue off her purse and cleaned the headstone. Hamish helped by removing the dead flowers and placed the new ones Elizabeth had given him, the very same white roses Elizabeth had at her garden and had always taken care of.

"Have you told daddy about the new book Uncle Mycroft got for you?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes! And about the baby too and about Grandpa Riward and Nan Lizzie."

"That's good," mumbled Jane.

"Daddy's here?"

Jane knelt in front of Sherlock's grave, close to where Hamish was. "His body's here, but his soul is up there with God."

Hamish hugged Jane and kissed her cheek. "Mummy... tell Daddy 'bout baby."

"Why don't you go and wait with Nan Hudson?"

Little Hamish nodded and pressed a last kiss to Sherlock's headstone and ran away from Jane to find Mrs Hudson. Jane, with some difficulty got to her feet and looked at Hamish form disappearing and then turned to face Sherlock's grave.

"Hello, Sherlock. I know... I know you can hear me. I know you're here," whispered Jane. "Remember you used to say Angels don't exist? You're one of them now, aren't you? I told Hamish you are... I'm sure you are."

Jane opened her purse and looked at the latest scan. Before going to the cemetery she visited her doctor with Hamish and she had the last ultrasound done before the baby came.

"This is for you," said Jane placing the ultrasound close to Sherlock's grave and next to the picture Hamish had drawn for Sherlock. "The doctor said the baby is fine and in the right position so, uh, so if everything's all right... in three weeks or so this baby will be here with us." Jane smiled and rubbed her belly. "You know, the doctor asked me if I wanted to know the gender but I-I-I want it to be a surprise. After all, we said we'd wait, remember?

"Um... I don't have much to say. But I'm sure you already know everything, don't you?" Jane faked a smile and sighed. "I'm staying at your parents. I can't go back to Baker Street... My mum- _Suzanne_ came to see me. Apparently she saw the news about you - I was about to forgive her when she said she had always known you where mad," quoted Jane with a sarcastic smile. "If it hadn't been for the maids I would've punched her face. She didn't even asked for Hamish or the baby. I won't forgive her. I think I'll never do."

Jane, whose eyes had been focused on Sherlock's headstone, moved away and focused on the green grass underneath her feet. "Well, err, Mrs Hudson and your mum are competing against each other to see who can knit the best jumpers for the baby," Jane laughed, a very heartedly laugh and smiled. "And your dad and Greg are good friends too. Richard is trying to get dad into golf, but he doesn't like it.

"Mycroft is... he spends a lot of time with Hamish. I know you didn't like him much, but he really cares. We don't talk much. But he's sad too. Everyone is," whispered Jane. "These white roses are from your mum's garden - she can't come. Richard is working again at the office. They miss you so much, Sherlock.

"Hamish misses you too. Uh, he refuses to drink his milk because he says he always had tea with you," Jane frowned. "He's lost some weight, but your mother is taking care of that with all those things she bakes. Your mother is definitely fattening us up, isn't she, baby?" asked Jane, caressing her baby bump and faking a smile. "He cries and I know he's sad. He has nightmares and usually wakes up crying. You know, he almost caught a cold after spending a whole afternoon out in the garden looking up at the sky - he was trying to see you. Maybe I shouldn't have told him you were an Angel, but you're aren't you?"

Jane couldn't take it anymore and sobbed loudly. She cried and cried, and let her tears fell down her eyes freely. She wiped them off her face with the back of her hands and looked at the golden ring on her left hand. "You know, today's a month since you left us. And... it's our wedding anniversary too. Today three months ago we got married, remember?" Jane glanced at her ring. "Love... there were times I didn't even think you were _human._ When you... _that night_ \- I thought I'd lose you forever. But you came back to me - to _us_. You came back and we were a family again. You became Hamish's daddy and we-we conceived this baby... Why, Sherlock? Why you left us? Why? We were - I know you were happy. What happened, love?"

Jane wiped the last tears of her face and knelt next to Sherlock's grave. "Let me tell you this: you were the best man, and the most human - human being that I've ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. You didn't invent _him_. I know you didn't, so... there."

Jane looked at the scan and at the painting Hamish had left and then at her wedding ring. She wanted to take it off and leave it there, but for some unknown reason she decided to keep it.

She had to keep it.

"We were _so_ alone, and we owe you so much," mumbled Jane, standing up and straightening her clothes. "You're our Angel. I know you are. You saved me and Hamish and I know you'll keep this baby healthy. I know you'll be with us.

"I love you, Sherlock. I will always love you. _Always_... Look after Hamish and this baby, would you?," Jane smiled. "Goodbye."

Jane turned and started walking away, when she felt her baby kicking inside her. It kicked very hard and this made Jane hiss in pain. She pressed both hands to her lower abdomen and felt her baby moving.

It was the first time the baby kicked since Sherlock had left.

It had always kicked when Sherlock was around.

 _Only_ when Sherlock was around.

Jane walked back to face Sherlock's grave. "No, please, there's just one more thing, love, one more thing: one more miracle, Sherlock, for us. Don't... be... dead. Would you do - I'm not even asking you to do it for me. Do it for our children - for Hamish and this baby, please, just stop it. Stop this.

"Please, come back," whispered Jane and left.


	79. Us Against the World

Jane looked at the sitting room and held her breath. Hamish ran into the room, sat on Sherlock's armchair and picked up the remote control and turned the TV on. It was such a thing she knew Sherlock would have disapproved of. He didn't like it when Hamish spend more than he had been allowed to watching telly.

The flat was as she remembered it. Mrs Hudson had been keeping it clean and everything was so pristine. It was all the opposite to that night in which several armed police officers got into the flat to arrest _him_. The room they used to share looked so empty without him, without Sherlock. The bed was now far too big for herself; it was cold and it didn't have Sherlock on it anymore. Jane remembered their lazy mornings on that bed, the naps Jane made Sherlock take with her, and their passionate nights together.

Suddenly the flat was far too big for Jane and Hamish.

No place was better without Sherlock.

Nothing was better without Sherlock.

But worst.

Sherlock had left enough money to live at least twenty lifetimes. Jane knew most of that money came from the Holmes', but then a huge part came from Sherlock's detective business and another smaller amount from his job with Lestrade. Jane had credit and debit cards and enough money to live a modest life without even working for the rest of her life. However, Jane knew that someday she was going to need a job as that money left, even when they were millions - plus the country house and other properties were her children and not hers.

Everything Sherlock left was for their children and no one else.

"This is my private number," said Mycroft one morning as he handed Jane a slip of paper and not a classic business card. "Should you call me if there's anything you might need my assistant with. Please, do not hesitate in doing so."

Jane nodded. "Thank you."

Mycroft smiled at his nephew looking at the pictures on the new book he had got for him. "I'm sorry for coming without a previous call."

"You never did," said Jane while pouring more tea. "Why starting now?" Mycroft thanked Jane for the cuppa with a nod. "You don't need my permission to come and visit Hamish," said Jane. She already guessed what Mycroft had wanted to ask for. "You know that you're welcome here. You've always been and you'll always be."

"I thought I would not."

Jane laughed. "I'm still angry."

"I can tell."

"But I can't forbid Hamish from seeing you," said Jane and closing her eyes while feeling her baby moving inside her. "You're his favourite uncle after all."

Mycroft curled his lips and looked at Jane. "I'm the only uncle he's got."

"That's right."

They shared an honest laugh. Even though Jane was still angry with Mycroft, she really meant what she had said. She couldn't just not let Hamish see Mycroft. Hamish loved Mycroft and he was indeed his favourite uncle even when he was the only one. Since Sherlock had died, Hamish had built a nice relationship with Mycroft. Jane knew Mycroft was a positive, good influence for her child and that Mycroft felt something special for the child who was not Sherlock's, biologically speaking.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

Mycroft nodded. "And the baby?"

"The baby's fine," Jane pressed a hand on the right side of her belly. "It's due to come tomorrow..."

"But?"

"But it won't happen."

He frowned. "How do you know?"

Jane shrugged. "I just know. The baby will be born when _he_ or _she_ wants to."

Hamish put his book aside and sat next to his mother. He pressed his left ear, the one in which he could hear naturally, to Jane's belly and waited, but he could hear nothing.

"Mummy... want baby."

Jane smiled. "The baby will come soon."

"But when?"

"I don't know. We have to wait," said Jane.

Hamish just nodded when Jane took his little hand and moved it over her belly until she felt where the baby was moving. Hamish's eyes lit up as soon as he felt the baby moving inside Jane.

"Baby!"

Jane smiled. "See? It's getting ready to see you!"

Hamish turned to Mycroft. "Uwcle Mycroft! Baby movin'!"

Mycroft curled his lips upwards. "That's good."

"'ere,' said Hamish, pointing at Jane's belly. "Touch 'ere!"

Mycroft, who had been sitting in Sherlock's chair looked at his nephew and then at Jane. She just rolled her eyes and nodded. "It won't bite you."

"Certainly."

"Uwcle Mycroft!"

"Okay," Mycroft leaned forward and the chair and pressed a shy hand to Jane's belly.

As soon his palm was on Jane's belly Mycroft felt what could have been cataloged as one of the most beautiful and yet sad things he had ever experienced. Mycroft leaned back on the chair and smiled. Hamish continued pressing his hands on Jane's belly, trying to make the baby move again, but it wouldn't. Jane smiled, a weak smile indeed and focused on her son.

Mycroft felt sad because of what Sherlock had left.

And for what Sherlock was missing.

"Daddy not gonna meet baby," mumbled Hamish and kissed Jane's belly.

"No, he won't," whispered Jane. "But daddy will see it from Heaven."

"Have you and my brother ever discussed what was to be done regarding Hamish's religious instruction?"

"No," admitted Jane.

Nothing was to be said about the way or which religion Jane was instructing Hamish into. Jane had Sherlock had never discussed anything about it. When Sherlock returned Hamish was almost three years old and he already knew the concepts of God and Heaven. Sherlock had never felt the need of changing that, as the not-spiritual person he was. Sherlock had always respected Jane's beliefs and Hamish's as well.

"I think we'll move."

Mycroft nodded. "Have you considered -"

"I don't think I can stay here anymore. We'll move after the baby's born," explained Jane.

"I must go."

Mycroft let his nephew hug him tightly and he pressed a kiss to the mop of wild, fair curls. Jane only smiled at him, weakly, and walked his brother-in-law to the stairs.

"I'd walk you to the front door, but there's no way I'd be able to walk those stairs up again."

Jane was nine months pregnant now. According to the doctors, the baby was to be born the following day, just within hours. But not only Jane but also Mycroft knew that was not going to happen. That baby was going to take days before coming to this world.

After all, it was Sherlock's child.

And Sherlock's child was going to make everyone wait for him or she.

* * *

While waiting for her baby to tell Jane it was _The Time_ , she slept and wandered around the flat with a bag in which she had inside everything she would be needing once the baby gave her the signs he or she was coming; nappies, clothes and socks small enough for a newborn baby and even that blue hat her father had bought for Hamish years ago.

Hamish was calm, quiet. He didn't throw any tantrum and he actually did everything Jane told him to do. Even when he was as eager as his mother to see the new baby, Hamish spent some mornings with Mrs Hudson downstairs - so Jane could sleep and some afternoons watching telly, playing with his favourite toys or sometimes with Mycroft when he visited.

It had been three, four, five and six days after the due date and nothing.

Until the seventh day.

Jane was lying on her bed. The opposite side - Sherlock's side - was so cold. It was still dark outside, Jane could tell. She knew in a few hours Hamish was going to wake up, run down to her room and say he wanted pancakes for breakfast.

Sherlock knew how to cook pancakes.

Jane cried again. After almost three months without Sherlock, Jane allowed herself to cry again. She was lying on her side of the bed, facing Sherlock's side, and she pressed a hand to her belly, trying to feel her baby and she ran a hand over Sherlock's empty, cold side. Jane glanced at her wedding ring and kissed it.

_"I, Sherlock Holmes, take you, Jane Watson, to be my wife. You are the reason as to why I want to commit my life to yours. You are my soul, my life, the air I breathe every day. I promise to look after you. I promise I will not hurt you. I will always love you and I will always be by your side. Until death do us part."_

Death did them part.

Jane left the bed and opened the doors of the wardrobe. She buried her nose into one of Sherlock's jackets and inhaled trying to take in his scent, Sherlock's scent, his perfume. Jane tried to feel him again when she realised she was leaving soon. She had everything planned; once the new baby was born, she and her children were leaving Baker Street. 221 B held so many memories - good and bad - but it certainly had Sherlock as well. Everywhere Jane looked at, Sherlock was there; in their room, on their bed, in the shower, in the kitchen cooking pancakes for Hamish or maybe doing some experiments, in the sitting room playing his violin, on the sofa sulking, in Hamish's room reading him a story or maybe cuddling him before going to bed... every part of the flat had Sherlock on it.

And almost three months later and close to have her baby, Jane decided it was for the best to leave. And suddenly, the baby kicked hard inside her. Jane clenched her teeth and shut her eyes tight.

It hurt.

And then, the contractions started.

Studying what contractions are, how to identify and how to classify them had not been hard. But no one told Jane how painful contractions are and how scary contractions feel like when they happen.

And if the contractions were scary, Jane was not ready yet to look down to the floor and see the strange liquid falling from between her legs.

The baby was coming.

"Oh God..."

Jane dialed Mycroft's private number and waited.

Mycroft picked up the call on the first ring.

_"Jane -"_

"Mycroft... it's coming. I need you to - aaaaaghhhhhh... -"

On the other line, Mycroft was already panicking. He was panicking even more than Jane. _"I'm calling an ambulance -"_

"No! Send a car. I don't want an ambulance!"

_"But -"_

Jane pressed the phone to her ear. "This will take hours, I know it... aaaaagggghhh. Just please... send a car!"

* * *

_**It's coming now. MH** _

Mycroft knew his brother could be in danger if the people he was fighting against found out he still had any kind of connection with him and with the people he had to leave behind; his family.

But Mycroft knew Sherlock needed to know. He knew his 'dead' brother needed to know his baby was coming.

Just seconds after sending that text, _he_ replied.

_**On my way. SH** _

* * *

"WHAT?"

The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry Mrs Holmes, but we can't give you the epidural yet."

"Why? The contractions are quite frequent, the amniotic sac is broken and I'm having this baby right now!" screamed Jane.

"Mrs Holmes, you're not dilated enough."

Jane sighed and sat on the bed. Greg, Elizabeth and Richard were there after Mycroft had called them. Mrs Hudson was also there with Hamish, who was as eager as his mother to see the new baby.

After being monitored and examined, the doctors told Jane the baby was bigger than average so they needed to discuss if performing a c-section was better than a normal birth.

"The c-section -"

"I don't want a c-section," said Jane, cutting her doctor off.

"Mrs Holmes, your baby is big. We can't risk your and your baby's health."

Jane inhaled and then exhaled loudly when she felt more contractions - and the baby furiously kicking, moving inside her. "I want a normal birth."

"Okay. But still you'll have to wait..."

While Jane was in pain and waiting for the doctors to understand she really needed the epidural, outside her room was Mycroft Holmes talking to one of the doctors who he knew was going to be in the delivery room.

The doctor looked at Mycroft Holmes, the man he knew could finish his medical career if things weren't done as he wanted. But keeping Jane from having her baby because there was someone coming soon wasn't a good thing to do. The doctor looked down at the chart; Jane Watson Holmes had contractions, her water was broken and according to the ultrasound made the baby could come at any moment.

"Mr Holmes... it is true the patient is not fully dilated now. But we can't guarantee you we'll keep her from having the baby. It will come when it has to," explained the doctor.

"Just two more hours," repeated Mycroft. "And then you can do what its needed."

"Anything else?" asked the doctor, half sarcastically, and half fearful for the answer Mycroft Holmes could give. After all, the man could finish with his medical career by just raising a finger.

Mycroft nodded. "She's my brother's wife and I'm deeply sorry to say if anything happens to her or to the child, you won't be dealing with me but also with him."

* * *

It turned out Jane was right. The baby was going to come to the world when he or she wanted to. Jane arrived at the hospital at six in the morning. And it was half past six in the evening when she was fully dilated and when the doctors had finally agreed to give her the epidural, which meant she and her baby were fully ready now.

Jane was lying on her side, holding Hamish's little hand as the doctor applied the epidural. Elizabeth was sitting next to Jane's bed with Hamish sitting on her lap.

"Take a deep breath," said the doctor as he applied the epidural.

Jane shut her eyes tightly and squeezed Hamish's hand. "God!"

Elizabeth smiled at her daughter-in-law. "It'll stop soon, Jane dear."

"It'd better!"

The doctors asked Elizabeth and Hamish to wish the soon-to-be-mum good luck because they were taking her to the delivery room.

The baby was coming!

"I lov' you mummy," said Hamish as he kissed his mummy's cheek and then he pressed a kiss to her belly. "Baby come now!"

Jane smiled. "I love you too," she kissed Hamish's curls. "I'll be right back with your little brother or sister."

"Daddy said brother."

Jane nodded. "We'll see. See you soon, Hamish."

"Bye mummy!"

Jane was lying on a stretcher outside the delivery room while some nurses and doctors got inside and while the effects of the epidural were lessing the pain and preparing her for the deliver. Jane already knew the process of cleaning and getting the rooms ready for a delivery when, looking at one of the doors, she spotted a dark figure. Jane just ignored it, she knew the pain and the medications were probably affecting her mind.

Once inside, and after some long minutes, Jane was half-sitting on a special stretcher. Her legs were spread and her doctor positioned himself in front of her so he was the one who would take her baby once it was out. Next to Jane was an old nurse and there were also several doctors and nurses too. Jane glanced at the table behind the doctor; there were all the elements needed if there were some complications.

And there were also blankets, a pink and a blue bracelet to write the name of the baby on them and a chart.

Jane realised she hadn't thought of a name for the baby.

The nurse rubbed her belly and looked at the doctor for approval. The doctor nodded. "Mrs Holmes, take a deep breath."

Jane nodded and did as she had been told.

"Push!" said the doctor and Jane shut her eyes tight.

"Aaaaaaggggghhhhhhhh!"

The pain was unbearable.

There were some little tears falling from the corner of Jane's blue eyes. She pushed, but the baby wasn't moving. Jane pushed as many times as the doctor and the nurse told her, but the baby wasn't moving.

"The baby's not moving," said the doctor. "We'll have to change our plans."

Jane hissed in pain. "I don't want a c-section."

"Mrs Holmes every time you feel a contraction, push," said the nurse and Jane nodded.

"Aaaggghhhhh!"

The doctor shook his head. "It's not moving. The baby won't move."

* * *

Sherlock looked at Jane through the curtains of a half glass wall; her hair was damp and her forehead was covered with sweat. From where Sherlock was, he couldn't hear what the doctors and nurses were saying, but he knew something was wrong. For some unknown reason Jane looked desperate and there were tears in her eyes. And for some reason, a group of doctors were preparing themselves to perform a c-section.

No.

Their baby was supposed to have a normal birth.

Sherlock bit his lip and reached the door handle. He knew he was just a few steps from Jane and their baby. Just one door and five steps kept them from each other.

Mycroft took his hand before Sherlock could ever open the door.

Sherlock closed his eyes and two tears fell down his eyes. "I can't leave her alone."

"They will kill her," whispered Mycroft, placing a supporting hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

It was the truth; if Jane knew Sherlock was 'alive' not only her but also Hamish and the baby would be killed.

But then he saw it. Sherlock saw it.

Their baby was being born.

* * *

"Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh GOD!"

The nurse smiled at her. "C'mon! Keep pushing, it's coming!"

Jane took a deep breath and pushed.

"The head is out," said Jane's doctor. "Keep pushing!"

"I can't...," whispered Jane, with tears in her eyes. She was sweating and the pain was extreme. It was the first time she was experiencing such pain and for a moment she regretted asking for no c-section. "I can't do it!"

Jane was crying. The pain was unbearable and she felt she couldn't do it anymore when she looked down at her spread legs and her baby's head. She was half seated, and she could see it just there.

And then, Jane remembered.

_"We can try for a baby," suggested Sherlock._

_"I don't know, Sherlock. I'm still in uni, you're working, Hamish is still very little and he needs all our attention."_

_Sherlock kissed her stomach. "Please. Let's have another baby."_

Jane remembered how many times and how hard she and Sherlock had wanted that baby and how much she cried after every negative pregnancy test. And now that baby they had wanted, longed for so long was there, coming to this world.

_"I can't wait to have this baby," said Sherlock as he kissed her still flat stomach._

_"D'you want a little girl or a little boy?"_

_Sherlock kissed her lips. "I just want it to be healthy and beautiful like its mother."_

But Jane felt weak. She felt like she couldn't fight anymore. The pain was killing her.

Sherlock told her she was strong.

_"How many babies d'you want to have?"_

_"As many as we can make."_

_Jane giggled. "God, Sherlock! I think we'll have as many as I can conceive. My uterus is not that strong."_

_"You're strong._ _We'll have them. You're strong."_

She could do it. Sherlock believed in her. Sherlock knew she was strong.

Jane knew she could do it.

"One more push!"

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She thought of Sherlock. She knew he was there. She knew Sherlock was there close to her. It was a strange thing, it was almost weird, but Jane was able to feel Sherlock close. Jane remembered she had told Hamish Sherlock was an Angel now and that Angels are everywhere.

Sherlock was there. He had to be there because Jane felt her heart beating fast, pounding hard within her chest.

"Push!"

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Jane saw his baby. The doctor was holding it in his hands when one of the nurses cut the umbilical cord and another wrapped the baby with a white sheet. Jane rested her back against the stretcher, she smiled and then she closed her eyes relieved. All the doctors and nurses went silent and the only thing Jane could heard was her baby crying. However, Jane kept her eyes closed and waited for no more than a few seconds until the doctors had checked her baby was good, healthy.

Her baby's crying was the most beautiful sound Jane had ever heard. Her baby was crying and that meant it was alive, safe.

"Congratulations Mrs Holmes. You have a very healthy _boy_ ," said a nurse as she placed the baby on Jane's chest and suddenly, all the pain was gone. All that pain she had felt since very early in the morning disappeared. She was not suffering anymore and her body wasn't shaking anymore. The pain was gone. Jane held her baby tightly against her chest and kissed his face. Her baby was crying and she knew it was a good sign.

Her baby was healthy.

They had made it.

"I've got a son..."

"Yes," confirmed the doctor. "You've got a very healthy boy there."

Jane cried. She cried as she kissed her baby and looked at him. It was beautiful. He was a very beautiful baby. He was still covered with blood, and his hair was damp, but Jane was sure he was going to have dark, wild curls like his father. Like Sherlock.

Jane let out a long sign when she looked at her baby opening his eyes. God, his eyes were gray, like his. Like Sherlock's. Her baby stopped crying as soon as his gray eyes focused on her, on his mother.

"Hello, baby. I'm your mummy," whispered Jane as the baby extended his little hand and took Jane's index finger. He held it tightly, wrapping his tiny little fingers around it. His little gray eyes were focused on Jane when she kissed his forehead and ran a hand over hid hair.

A young nurse holding a chart and a blue bracelet stood close to Jane and smiled at her. "He's beautiful."

"Thank you," replied Jane and wiped some tears off her face.

"Have you thought of any name?"

Looking down at her baby, Jane realised she didn't need to think of a suitable name for her baby anymore. "Sherlock."

The nurse nodded and started writing the name down on the chart and then on the blue bracelet for her wrist and for the baby's. "You can change it later if you want."

Jane shook her head and smiled fondly to her baby. She and Sherlock had decided they would know their baby's name once they had it in their arms. But Sherlock was not there; he was not going to hold their baby in his arms. Jane was there. She was holding their baby in her arms and Jane knew the name was perfect for him.

Because that baby could no longer have any other name than _his_ name, than the name of his father, the man Jane loved with all her heart; Sherlock Holmes.

"His name is _Sherlock_."

* * *

Mycroft looked at his brother. Sherlock was silently crying. Heavy tears were falling from his eyes and rolling down his sharp cheeks. Mycroft knew he would never understand what was to have a child. But destiny somehow had got something with Sherlock; he missed seeing his first child coming to the world. Now he had seen his second baby, but still Sherlock couldn't see him, touch him and say how happy he was and how much he loved both mother and child - his wife and his son.

Mycroft only smiled and patted his brother's back softly. "Congratulations."

"It's a boy. I've got another boy," whispered Sherlock.

Mycroft just nodded and joined his brother. Apparently Jane was telling the nurses the baby's name and soon they were going to know it too. Jane decided to wait until she was holding the baby to decide how she was going to name it.

If you looked at the baby, it was not difficult to guess which name Jane was going to choose.

* * *

Some time later, Jane was taken to her room. She couldn't wait to have her baby with her to feed him and to introduce him to her family. Jane couldn't wait to see Hamish again and tell him he had a little brother now with whom he was going to be able to play with in some years. But God she was tired. She felt as if she had been running a marathon or fighting a war but still she couldn't wait to see her baby again and her family too.

Two nurses got into her room; one of them was carrying her baby and the other was placing a hospital crib with the some white sheets and a white duvet Mrs Hudson and Elizabeth had knitted for the baby next to her bed. As soon as Jane had been given her baby, the nurses told her he was ready to be fed.

"Do you want to see your family?"

Jane nodded eagerly as she held her baby tightly in her arms. "Yes."

As soon as the nurse opened the door, Hamish ran into the room to his mother's bed. Hamish was ready to climb on the bed but he stopped half way when Jane told him to be slowly.

Jane smiled. "Hamish, there's someone who wants to meet you."

Everyone stood around her bed to see the baby. Everyone was silent until Elizabeth helped Hamish to sit next to Jane on the bed. Hamish looked at the baby half awake, half asleep on the crook of Jane's arm. The baby had very pale skin, dark pink cheeks and his hair was dark. It was still a bit damp so no one could tell yet if he had straight or curly hair. Hamish looked at the baby and then to his mother. "Brother?"

"Yes," Jane confirmed. "This is your brother _Sherlock_."

Elizabeth buried her face into Richard's chest and cried. Mycroft curled his lips upwards into a smile and Mrs Hudson and Greg looked at each other and smiled too. There were tears in everyone's eyes, even in Mycroft's, who had been with Sherlock witnessing the moment in which baby Sherlock came to the world and when Jane named him after his 'dead' father.

Mycroft knew that baby couldn't possibly have got any other name.

"Sherlock? Like daddy?" asked Hamish. It was the first time he pronounced that name correctly as he had always said 'Sherwock'.

Jane smiled at her now eldest son. "Yes. Like daddy."

Hamish planted a soft kiss to baby Sherlock's small forehead when the baby extended his little arms to Hamish. The toddler smiled excitedly. "Look!"

"He likes you!" said Jane and then looked at the people standing around the bed.

Soon, everyone wanted to meet and hold baby Sherlock. Elizabeth and Richard, plus Mycroft, agreed the baby looked exactly like his father. Elizabeth couldn't help but cry as soon as he held Sherlock in her arms. She also couldn't stop saying how much alike they were; baby Sherlock's hair was dark and his eyes were gray. He was very pale and big too. Richard said he was sure baby Sherlock was going to be very tall and strong.

Greg and Mrs Hudson loved baby Sherlock. Greg said he hoped this Sherlock would not be as rude as his father had once been and Mrs Hudson couldn't stop crying. Both were not directly related to Jane, but both were like her parents. So both felt like proud grandparents. Mrs Hudson promised to knit the most loveliest jumpers for baby Sherlock and Greg made Jane promise she will let him spoil baby Sherlock like the grandfather he was.

Everyone wanted to stay longer, but baby Sherlock needed to be fed and Jane needed to sleep. It was very late and both mother and son were very tired.

"Well Hamish, say goodnight to your mummy," said Richard placing baby Sherlock on the small hospital crib and taking Hamish's hand.

"But I wanna mummy!"

Elizabeth smiled. "Hamish, Jane and the baby need to sleep. We'll come tomorrow."

Hamish looked a bit disappointed and started to sulk when Jane glared at him and smiled."Don't sulk."

"G'night mummy, g'night baby," said Hamish, kissing Jane's cheek and then the crib next to her bed.

"Goodnight, Hamish. Be good to your grandparents. Maybe tomorrow the baby and I can go home!"

"Yes!"

As soon as everyone left, Jane took her baby in her arms and undid the first buttons of her maternity hospital gown to breastfeed her baby for the first time. She placed the baby's head on the crook of her arm and supported his weight with her forearm. The baby was certainly heavy than average. Jane remembered Richard's words; baby Sherlock was going to be as tall and as strong as his father had been.

The baby pressed his tiny hand to Jane's chest and then she started to feed him. At the beginning it hurt a bit, but the pain - every pain was bearable now that she had her baby healthy with her, against her chest, safe.

Jane cried while looking down at her baby. It was the first time she was breastfeeding. And it was one of the most beautiful experiences Jane's ever had in her whole life. As she couldn't do it when Hamish was born because of the medicines she had to take because of the heart attack and the many wounds she got after Sherlock had hit her and pushed her down the stairs, now Jane felt more than happy. The experience was unique. She felt so close to her baby. Knowing that she was feeding him, that what she had inside her was good for her baby. Breastfeeding her child and how it felt was difficult to put into words; the closeness she felt was unique.

Baby Sherlock had his gray eyes open while being fed and Jane smiled at him. "You're so beautiful. I wish your father was here to see you. He would be so proud of you."

Jane continued breastfeeding her baby ignoring the dark shadow close to her door.

* * *

"I need to see them before leaving. I need to meet my son."

Mycroft nodded. Again, he knew he would never understand what was to love someone as much as Sherlock loved Jane and his children. He loved Sherlock, but the love he felt for his brother could never be compared to the love Sherlock had for his family.

"How much time..."

Sherlock looked into his brother's eyes. "I won't take a second more than necessary. I'll do it as fast as I can and I'll come back to them."

"I will take care of them as you asked."

"They will be always safe as long as they think I'm _dead_."

Sherlock started walking towards the door of Jane's room when Mycroft stood next to him. "They will kill them if she sees you - if she knows you are _alive_."

Sherlock ignored his brother's warning and looked at Jane feeding their baby.

Sherlock froze and his heart stopped beating.

* * *

"Your daddy loved you so much," whispered Jane while caressing her baby's dark hair with her thumb. "I'm sure he still does."

A few minutes afterwards, Jane smiled at her baby. His eyes were closed and Jane knew he was deeply asleep. Jane got to her feet and placed baby Sherlock on the small crib next to her bed. She pressed a soft kiss to her baby's cheek and wiped the tears off her face. She couldn't help but cry. She wished Sherlock could be there with her and their baby. She knew he would be so proud.

_"You still want to be with me, during the birth?"_

_Sherlock nodded. "Of course."_

_"Some people faint, though."_

_"Stupid people faint," said Sherlock and kissed neck. "I'll be there with you."_

_"You promise?"_

Sherlock had promised it. But Sherlock had not been there. Jane had imagined thousands of different scenarios. She had imagined Sherlock holding her hand while pushing. Jane had imagined Sherlock cutting the umbilical cord. She had even imagined Sherlock deciding their baby's name. Jane had always wanted Sherlock to choose their baby's name, but all those thoughts, all those dreams died when Sherlock died.

Jane had been alone at the delivery room. No one held her hand and no one of importance to her had cut the umbilical cord. She had decided the baby's name alone because now she was alone.

Alone with their children.

Jane lay on her bed, turned to her side and closed her eyes. She was so tired. As soon as she closed her eyes, she fell into a deep sleep and she didn't notice the dark shadow behind her door.

* * *

Sherlock waited for a few minutes until he heard Jane's light snoring and then he decided he could walk into the room without being noticed. It was dark but still he was able to spot a small crib next to a bed. Jane was lying on her side with her back to the crib. She was deeply asleep, Sherlock could tell.

Taking slow, silent steps, Sherlock got close to the crib and knelt next to it and rested his chin on the edge of the crib. He couldn't stop the silent tears falling down his eyes when he let his index finger run over his son's dark hair and over the pale, soft skin of his face and over his dark pink chubby cheeks.

Sherlock looked at the blue bracelet on his son's wrist.

**_Sherlock Watson Holmes._ **

Jane named him Sherlock.

And if Sherlock's heart stopped beating when he saw Jane feeding their baby, now Sherlock felt like he was going to die when he saw his son opening his eyes and looking at him.

"Hello baby," whispered the young detective. The baby only stared at him. Sherlock knew his baby couldn't see him yet because babies can't see properly when they are born. They only spot shadows, but they can't see. But Sherlock pretended his son could. "I'm Sherlock. And I'm your father."

Sherlock raised his son into his arms. Being as much careful as he has ever been, Sherlock held his baby tightly in his arms and against his chest. Sherlock could feel the warmness of his son and how heavy he was despite being a few hours old. His eyes scanned baby Sherlock's little - and yet big body. Baby Sherlock was bigger than average! His baby looked a lot like him but Sherlock knew he was definitely going to have Jane's honest heart and feelings. Baby Sherlock looked like him, but he was going to have Jane's heart and soul.

"So... Sherlock. Not the best name of the world, is it?" said Sherlock, curling his lips and plating more kisses to his baby's cheeks and forehead.

The baby was surprisingly silent and Sherlock knew if his son cried and woke Jane, it would meant their end. If Jane saw Sherlock, she would die.

It was a huge risk.

But Sherlock needed to see them. He needed to say one last goodbye before leaving.

"Your mother was right; I love you and I'm very proud of you," whispered Sherlock, letting his son take his index finger and curl his tiny little fingers around it. "You've met Hamish, haven't you? He's your older brother. I'm sure you'll love him. Don't be like me and your uncle, though. You two _must_ love and look after each other and after your mother too."

Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to his son's forehead and inhaled his scent. He smelled like Jane. "I can't stay, Sherlock. I'm sorry. But I promise I'll come back," whispered Sherlock, turning to see Jane's form on the bed. "Be good to your mother," Sherlock pressed a last kiss to his son's cheek and placed him back on the crib. "And give her all the love she deserves. I love you, Sherlock. _Goodbye_."

Sherlock turned to the bed and removed his coat. He lay next to Jane and rested his head on the curve of her neck and placed his right hand on her now flat belly. His long left arm was on the pillow, above Jane's head and he caressed her left hand. He caressed her golden ring and looked at their hands and at their matching rings.

Jane was so tired that she was deeply asleep and she didn't felt Sherlock's warm lips on her neck, on her cheek and his hand on her flat belly under the covers.

"I'm sorry," whispered Sherlock caressing Jane's belly. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone."

Jane stirred just a bit but she didn't wake up. Sherlock closed his eyes and stayed there for long minutes. He inhaled Jane's scent, he was trying to memorise it to keep it in his Mind Palace for the long journey he had ahead. Sherlock cried. He knew this was the last time he was seeing them because he had to leave; there were people left and Jane, Hamish and baby Sherlock were still in danger.

As long as Moriarty's criminals were still working, Sherlock knew his family was in danger.

Sherlock had to protect them.

"Sherlock is beautiful. I'd told you were strong," whispered Sherlock. "I know you'll be a good mother to them. Hamish and Sherlock will take care of you.

"I don't want to go, love. I want to stay and see our children growing up," whispered Sherlock, kissing Jane's lips very softly so she wouldn't wake up. "I want to stay with you and I want to tell you how much I love you and our children, but I can't. I'm sorry Jane. I love you so much... I promise I will come back. I will fight for you and I'll come back."

Sherlock got to his feet and looked at Jane. He bent down and kissed her lips, her golden ring and finally, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Jane. Don't ever forget how much I love you."

Looking at his sleeping son for the last time, Sherlock wrapped his blue scarf around his neck, opened the door of the room and left.

* * *

When Jane woke up she saw the sun shining through the windows of the room. Jane had some tears in her eyes as as she remembered her dream. She dreamt of Sherlock. And it felt so real. It felt so real that Jane pressed her fingertips to her lips and closed her eyes. She could swear Sherlock kissed her - Jane could swear it hadn't been a dream. It felt real but Sherlock was dead!

And she still remembered him whispering to her ear.

_"I'm sorry for leaving you alone... I love you, Jane. Don't ever forget how much I love you."_

Jane's eyes were full of tears. "Sherlock..."

She walked to her baby's crib and looked at his peaceful sleeping form. Kissing his dark haired head, Jane smiled at him.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

**_To be continued..._ **


	80. Chapter 80

**Author's Note:**

**This story continues in "Finding You Again"**


End file.
